


the night is still young (and so are we)

by Laria124



Category: RWBY
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Difference, Attempt at Humor, Background Character Death, Background Relationships, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, OC, OCs - Freeform, POV Female Character, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Strong Female Characters, Teenage Drama, Teenage Rebellion, Worldbuilding, looooots of OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 78,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laria124/pseuds/Laria124
Summary: Welcome to the World of Remnant. We have robots and cat-people. We also have a shattered moon, creepy flesh-eating monsters everywhere, an immortal witch hell-bent on destructing mankind, a secret conspiracy around said witch and her immortal ex-boyfriend, absentee Gods, superpowers in the hands of trigger-happy mercenaries, racism, civil unrest, and some magical artifacts that nobody knows how to use except the super-secretive wizard  who gives information like pulling teeth. Please fasten your seatbelt. Do keep cries and screaming inside the vehicule at all times.Enjoy your ride.(Castia Goodwitch is reborn as the younger sister to Glynda Goodwitch. She decides to save the world, rebel against the Plot, make some friends, kick ass, and try not to die. In that order. There's no need to be psychic to see it's going to be a bumpy road.)
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Glynda Goodwitch, Original Character(s) & James Ironwood, Original Character(s) & Original Character(s), Original Character(s) & Ozpin, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 81
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts





	1. Let's start at the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ! Years after my first try at writing in english (oh god my old fanfics are so embarassing now...), i'm back on this fantastic website to give it a second try. With a long-ass fanfiction this time !
> 
> I've been fascinated by the concept f the *self-insert character* for a while. Well... since reading *Dreaming Of Sunshine* by Silver Queen (in the Naruto fadom, on ff.net). So... I did write a few SI in french, in various fandom. But since I only read in english now, my brain is insisting that i try to write in enlish too, so... I did it. I re-discovered RWBY a few months back and I have been writing a SI about it. Which, now, I'm letting loose on AO3. Enjoy x)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello ! Years after my first try at writing in english (oh god my old fanfics are so embarassing now...), i'm back on this fantastic website to give it a second try. With a long-ass fanfiction this time !
> 
> I've been fascinated by the concept f the _self-insert character_ for a while. Well... since reading _Dreaming Of Sunshine_ by Silver Queen (in the Naruto fadom, on ff.net). So... I did write a few SI in french, in various fandom. But since I only read in english now, my brain is insisting that i try to write in enlish too, so... I did it. I re-discovered RWBY a few months back and I have been writing a SI about it. Which, now, I'm letting loose on AO3. Enjoy x)

Castia Goodwitch was born on a sunny March afternoon in the kingdom of Vale, in a distinguished family renowned for their powerful Semblance. Her mother named her Lola-Castia Tattyana Nordica, but her father thought it was too much of a mouthful for such a little girl, and simply called her Castia. Her older sister, Glynda, did the same. As her mother passed away three years later, struck down by a rare disease, Castia barely remembered being called anything else. It didn’t matter, anyway.

Castia Goodwitch was, in everybody’s opinion, a very normal baby. She grew up at a normal rate, she was loved by her family, and she had a normal upbringing. Her mother, Nordica, was a scientist, a beautiful woman with ash-blonde hair and emerald eyes. She hailed from Atlas but had settled in the Vale to marry the love of her life, Hayden Goodwitch. He was a tall, distinguished man, with gold hair carefully combed back, and warm eyes that twinkled with amusement. Both their daughters looked like them. Glynda had her Mom’s petite stature, her pale skin and her eyes, green and sharp, but she had her Dad’s stern face, and hair barely a shade lighter than his. Castia looked more like her mother. She had her delicate nose, her pointed chin, her pale ash-blonde hair. She had her Dad’s beaming smile, thought, and the Goodwitch’s eyes: warm brown, like dark honey. Castia and Glynda looked like their parents’ children, but they didn’t look like each other. Bah, no matter. They grew smart, pretty, and strong, but most of all, they grew loved and well-cared for. They never missed for anything. Their father worked a lot, true, but he showered them with gifts.

Unlike Atlas, the Vale didn’t have a big military, but the Goodwitch family had been a part of it since the kingdom’s creation. Their Semblance, Telekinesis, made them powerful fighters as well was polyvalent defenders. They also owned a lot of land and several companies. In short, the Goodwitch were rich citizens with lot of relationships. It was traditional to go to the government, but it was far from an obligation, and they often branched out. The family was vast, after all. Some of them ended up teachers, or mechanists, or scientist, or scholars. Often, though, they became Huntsmen and Huntresses.

Castia was about six when she decided to become a Huntress.

The choice wasn’t very hard. She had just unlocked her Aura, so her Semblance was manifesting, and it promised it be extremely powerful. She wanted to help people. Her sister was already training to be a Huntress, and Castia wanted to be like her. But most of all, she was afraid of being left behind, powerless, when the world would come crashing down: and she knew it was going to happen soon.

See, this was the abnormal thing about Castia Goodwitch: _she wasn’t supposed to exist_.

She knew that. She knew that in the normal state of things, her sister Glynda was the only Goodwitch running around. She knew that in a few years, Beacon Academy would fall, and the kingdom would follow. She knew about Ozpin, Ironwood, Qrow, Raven, Cinder, Salem, but she also knew about Ruby, Yang, Blake, Weiss, Penny, Jaune, _people who weren’t even born yet_. She knew stuff she couldn’t explain, stuff that hadn’t happened, but that would happen unless someone did something.

Sometimes she felt special. Sometimes, thought, she mostly felt scared. It was like a tiny voice in her head, saying _you’re not supposed to be here, you’re an imposter, you’re not supposed to exist._ With time, it became easier to ignore it. After all, she was carving her place in this world. Her birth may have been a cosmic mistake, some weird unreal lag in the universe’s program, but what came after… Her actions, her choices, the memories she was making, the impact she had on people… It was real. _She_ was real. For better or for worse, she existed in the world of Remnant.

She couldn’t explain what had happened to her. Tentatively, she could say she had been reincarnated. But well, it wasn’t as if she could say that to people, right? That she came from another universe, where the world of Remnant was a story. Worse: that it was an end-of-the-world-story. Besides, it took her so much time to understand _where_ that knowledge came from, that by the time she was six she felt like too long had passed. She couldn’t just suddenly start sprouting stuff about the future without seeming totally unhinged.

Castia wasn’t against the concept of reincarnation, mostly because if she hadn’t been reincarnated she would be dead and she liked being alive, thank you very much. But really. For such a used fan fiction trope, you would have thought the _waking up_ part was pretty straightforward. New body, insert soul, and go. But it was more like… Being in that state of not-quite-awake, not-quite-asleep, where reality blurs with dreams. Oscillating between two states, without even understanding what those states were.

Obviously it was all very confusing. Babies don’t have any concept of time, object permanence, reality, or their own bodies. Their brains are brand new. It’s not like they’re empty, just waiting to be filled with knowledge. They’re _not finished_. The construction is still ongoing. So mixing that with an enormous bundle of disorganized memories spanning twenty-five years is bound to be messy. Sure, the brain develops faster. Neural circuits span into place easily, comprehension is more fluid, and synapses align themselves without the child needing to learn because they already _remember_. But it’s a long process.

It took about six years for Castia to completely… wake up. Well, not really _wake up_. She was still the same person. It was just that her knowledge had settled in. And even then, she wasn’t an adult mind in a child body. She was still herself. Sure, she was smarter than everyone in her class. She jumped two grades. She knew stuff. She was more confident than most kids. But she still was a _child_. Carefree. Careless, even. She knew about the Grimm, about death, about all the horrible things that were going to happen, but it Seemed… Distant. Like old dreams.

It was probably for the best. Her toddler brain couldn’t handle trauma and complex memories the way an adult brain could, after all. And she didn’t just remember the episodes of the show; she remembered all of her old life! All of her silly troubles, her friends, her family, weird anecdotes, all the books she had read, all of the shows she had watched, even the stupid files she had been working on in the office before, well, dying. But it was like those memories were behind a panel of glass. Intact, just without any of the emotions attached to it. It was just _knowledge_ , cold and clinical. She started life with a huge advantage. Knowledge of basic stuff like math, but also coping mechanisms for loss and disappointment, strategies to deal with bullies and/or favoritism, random bit of wisdom… And tidy bits of information about the future. Not much, mind you. She had only watched the first seven volumes of the RWBY series, and it had been a few years before her death. She barely remembered what happened in the first five seasons, besides the fall of Beacon.

She worried a bit about it. She was afraid of having forgotten something critical, of not knowing enough, of not _being_ enough. But that fear, too, was kind of abstract. She knew the memories, the danger, were real. She wanted to do something about it, but she couldn’t really wrap her mind about immortals being devastating kingdoms because of a century-old grudge, and succeeding. Nope. Too much.

Well, good. Her child’s brain probably wasn’t prepared to handle the very gritty reality, anyway. That way, she enjoyed her childhood. She loved her Dad, smart and caring. She admired her sister, Glynda, who was eleven years older than her but always took the time to play with her baby sister. She made friends in her preschool. She was a smart child, talented and kind, but also bratty and a bit arrogant. Well, who could blame her? She was cleverer and more powerful than all of her playmates, after all: it didn’t keep her humble. Thankfully, her father was doing his best to raise her right, and her sister Glynda was a sucker for good manners, so Castia didn’t turn into a complete little monster. Besides, she could always fall back on her previous-knowledge.

She had been pretty average in her old life. Good student, not a lot of friends, bad at sports, fan of action movies. Not a doormat, but even-tempered and polite. Her aggressiveness had been reserved for ruthless analysis of her favorite movies and for weirdly competitive trivia games. She had been pretty calm otherwise. Lost in her own world, always, dreaming of badass wizards fighting or designing a new _Donjons & Dragons_ character. But here… Well, there were similarities. She was a dreamer, an idealist. But apparently her brain was wired differently, or maybe her upbringing was different: anyway, she was way more reckless. She loved the adrenalin of a fight and the thrill of flirting with danger. Maybe because she had superpowers. After all, at age five she could make things float, and at age six she could throw chairs and table like pebbles. By age fourteen, she would be a force to be reckoned with. She was powerful. It was already a trip in itself!

Well of course, superpowers weren’t the explanation for everything. _Nature_ had its importance but _nurture_ played an important role in a child’s personality, and Castia was no exception. She was more at ease in public that she had been in her pervious life. She was a bit vain, too (after all, she tried to emulate her sister, who was the picture of elegance and never had a hair out of place). And she was more brutal. She wasn’t _mean_ , per see, it was just that… Well, she didn’t live in a safe word anymore. The kingdom of Vale was well-protected, but everyone knew of someone killed by Grimm, or had a family member caught in a riot somewhere because people had been hungry and scared, or even had to defend themselves from bandits. Let’s be blunt: the world of Remnant sucked. It was a nightmare that pretended to be normal. People died all the time. The big cities were fine enough, but there was always lingering trace of fear. Alarm sirens at every corner, waiting to blare out a warning; wide avenues, designed less for traffic and more for evacuation routes; bunkers every two blocks, massive and dark, never trying to pretend to be anything else than what they were. It was worse in the rural areas. Towns and settlements outside the city walls were wary, cautious places, where everyone walked armed, and mothers kept their children in sight at all times. A gun on every hip, an enemy around every shadowed corner.

Yep. This world was a pretty horrible place, and she was stuck in it.

Sure, people were kind and quick to lend a helping hand, but that kindness was born out of necessity. The world was so hard and indifferent, people simply had to stick together to survive. Even in a big city, even in a rich family, everyone knew that. So yeah, Castia learned very early to help others, but she also learned to be ruthless in a fight. How could she not be? Here, fighting often meant life or death. Being in a boxing club was very different from brawling with people wielding flames or moving as fast as lighting, or from battling monsters as tall as buildings!

But anyway. Castia grew. When she was six, her sister was seventeen and graduated from the primary combat school. Glynda left to attend Beacon Academy. It wasn’t the same after that. Beacon was a boarding school, so Glynda only visited once a year, during summer holidays. It was about that time that Castia decided to be a Huntress.

Part of it was for her sister. Glynda was everything Castia aspired to be: powerful, calm, elegant, clever, respected, loved. This admiration could have an edge of jealousy, sometimes, because Glynda was _so much_ and Castia felt always so far behind… But the Goodwitch sisters loved each other, fiercely and unconditionally. As soon as she could walk, Castia had always toddled behind her elder sister. Glynda had taught her how to brush her hair, how to read, how to tell stories. Most people credited Castia’s maturity to her sister, and it was probably partly true. They always had been joined at the hip, from Castia’s first steps to Glynda departure for Beacon Academy. They had a secret sign language. They shared a hideout in the bushes at the back of their garden. From the very beginning, Glynda always had such patience for a baby sister. She had never taught her how to fight, because Castia was so little, but she had shown her some moves, and told her about legendary Huntsmen and Huntresses. She had never looked down on her, always encouraging her, believing in her. She was her hero, and Castia couldn’t really imagine choosing a different path that the one her sister was already walking.

But she didn’t only choose for her sister. She looked at her life, stretched out in front of her, and she imagined what it would be in ten or twenty years from now. It seemed incredibly far for a six years old girl, but she had her future knowledge to help. So she thought about the fall of Beacon, of Ozpin’s death, of her sister in the middle of that, of thousand of people killed, of millions of people terrified, and… _She wanted to help_. From the bottom of her heart, she wanted to do something to help. It wasn’t some divine calling. It was simply something that was expected of her, that she _expected of herself_ because she was a civilized human being. Even if she was doomed to fail (and that idea haunted her, from the moment she realized she shouldn’t exist: what if the universe corrected its mistake, what if she was killed before the beginning of the series, what if everything she undertook tuned to ashes in her hands?)…. She had to try. _She had to_. She could not imagine _not_ helping.

This universe was so big, so dangerous, so cruel. She had to do something. Eradicate poverty seemed almost trivial when nightmares walked this earth and _ate people_ , even in the biggest and safest kingdoms. She wanted to do something about it. Eradicate the Grimm. Raise humankind in a better age. Make people stronger, kinder, smarter. She wanted to do something, she needed to: she couldn’t imagine a life where she would turn her back on this world. It was hers, now, and she had a duty to help.

So, when she was six, she decided to be a Huntress. For Glynda, for all the people she could help, but also for herself. Her birth had been a mistake, sure, but she was here now, and she would make it count. She wanted to be greater than she had been in her previous (lonely, average, forgettable) life. She wanted her life to matter, _to mean something_. Even if she didn’t change much, she would impact the universe, leave her mark.

Castia Goodwitch was born on a sunny March afternoon in the kingdom of Vale. She wasn’t supposed to exist. She was aware of it. She didn’t know how it had come to pass, and wasn’t sure she wanted to, to be honest. She knew about the future… Well, a future, anyway. She had knowledge that could change the world. She was frightened of it, some days, but her life was built on so much more than simple fear. There was kindness, and love, and hope. So she looked at that knowledge, and decided to use it to help. She decided to become a Huntress. It wasn’t a hard decision. It wasn’t even a complicated one. She wanted to protect people. She had to.

And so, her journey began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that first taste !
> 
> As every character in RWBY is based on a fairy tale character, Castia Goodwitch is based on the Witch in the North in "The Wizard Of Oz". She is related to the Witch in the South, Glinda (the inspiration for Glynda Goodwitch character, according to the creators of the show). Castia's name is made up, but it's based on Locasta, the name of the Good Witch of the North in the 1900 novel "The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz".  
> Also, Castia come from the latin name _castus_ meaning _pure_.
> 
> First chapter will be posted new week !


	2. The girl who watched the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter ! Some background, and Castia's life from age nine to fourteen.

Castia meet Ozpin at age nine. It wasn’t by any scheme on her part. It was just that this year, the Vytal Festival was hosted by Beacon, and so Hayden Goodwitch had bought premium tickets to watch the tournament where his eldest daughter was going to wipe the floor with her opponents. Naturally, Castia came. She was her sister’s biggest fan. Besides, she was already making noises about joining Beacon Academy in a few years. At age nine, she had already skipped a grade in her schooling, and was the best fighter in her class at the primary combat school.

Yes, Castia went to primary combat school: the biggest and classiest one, the Central Combat School, which was just next to her home and had a very good reputation. It was basically school but with combat training very early on. Technically, the school was separated in two levels: one for kids aged from six to ten, and one from kid aged from eleven to seventeen. The first level was light in combat, and but they were taught first-aid, survival in the wild, and mechanical tinkering that would help them to craft their own weapons later. They were offered at least thirty different sports classes, and physical training was mandatory. When she had been there, Glynda had taken fencing. Loyally, Castia had tried it for the first two years of her schooling at Central, but then she threw in the towel and tried something else. First karate, then climbing, and finally she settled for boxing. One class was enough, but she tried a few others to pass the time: break-dancing, pole-dancing, karate, trapeze… She wanted to test everything. There wouldn’t be so much choice (and so much free time!) when she would graduate.

The second level of school was way more combat-based. After all, at ten, kids were still growing up but they were now strong enough to swing around giants swords. The physical training increased. There were sparring sessions once a week, like a friendly tournament with hot chocolate for the winner, and several kids ending up in the infirmary each time. It was pretty violent, but hey, there were training for something way more brutal than a few scrapes and bruises. Besides, in this world, children were incredibly resilient. It wasn’t a rare occurrence to be thrown from a building several stories up, or to be punched in a wall so hard that the bricks cracked in half. But the kids just shrugged it off. Even babies-hunstmen could survive what would kill a normal person! Castia didn’t know if it was the power of Aura, of just this universe’s law of physics. In any case, having the durability of an anime character wasn’t something she was going to complaint about!

Besides, she really liked the concept of Auras. It was fascinating. Auras were the manifestation of somebody’s soul, apparently, but it had to be more than that. Castia postulated it was actually a mix of soul, body and mind. After all, people who trained their Aura didn’t train their soul, but the things they had control over: their bodies and their minds. The more training they had, the more abilities they could unlock. Their Semblance got stronger. Their Aura could support their body: augment their strength, enhances their speed, make them more durable… Physical objects, like weapons or armor, could also act as a conduit for Aura, allowing for an even wider range of offensive and defensive capabilities, as long as they were in contact with the person using them. The possibilities were pretty endless. You could channel you Aura into a freaking rock and just _split a mountain in half with it_ if you were strong enough! Castia’s Semblance was already cool by itself, but since it was powered by her Aura, and her Aura could get stronger…. Castia definitely put that into the “ _Good Stuff about Remnant_ ” column.

It was still a pretty short column. No matter how you thought about it, this world sucked balls. Sure, Castia loved her sister, her father, her school, her friends, her superpowers and all that jazz, but for gods’ sake, the universe was still unbearably, depressingly creepy.

It was the world of Remnant. Being strong wasn’t a way to go up, it was a way to not go down. It was the cold harsh truth: here, you didn’t dream to rise, you could only dare to hope not to sink. This universe wasn’t a place where hope and ambition were easy to come by. The continents didn’t crack apart on their own, on this world. The moon didn’t shatter of its own volition. Every time someone reached to new heights, touched a new technology or strived to change the world for the better, they got smacked right back down by the hand of God. The Tower of Babel never got off the ground floor on this world: it was strangled in the cradle, and its destroyers still lingered in the ruins.

Even without knowing about Salem, people couldn’t ignore this reality: the world (not humanity, but the intangible concept of _the universe itself_ ) hated them. The Grimm, the lack of progress, the insecurity… It was part of their life since the day of their birth. There was no indignation in the face of this injustice, because they had never known anything else. And so there was but one goal: to try to live out their lives as best they could. For most people, it meant trying to say safe. For Castia, it meant to throw herself at the universe and try to fix it.

And that needed preparation.

It wasn’t hard. Castia was one of the best and didn’t shy from it. She wasn’t the most sociable or outspoken kid, but she blended in. She was an insolent brat but didn’t go looking for trouble with the teachers. Without being the top of her classes in the more classic materials (like math), she absorbed knowledge like a sponge. She had a lot to prepare to! Politics, history, geography, everything was good to learn. She needed to know everything about every kingdom. Strength lied in unity. Most people were only interested in their own countries, because they didn’t plan to move around much, but Castia intended to see the world. Not only because of what she had dubbed _The Big Mission To Not Screw Up_ , but also because. Well. She was in magical fairyland. A place with huge monsters but also magical powers, lost cities, breathtaking wild landscapes, and apparently a pool created by a god that granted immortality. Who wouldn’t want to see that?

Also, she needed to kick ass. Not because of her _Mission_ but just because it was basic survival. This wasn’t really a kid-friendly universe, and she didn’t fancy ending her second-life as a chew-toy for a Beowolf or any other nightmarish creature.

Lucky for her, she had been born with the Goodwitch family’s Semblance: Telekinesis.

There was a lot of things that sucked in the world of Remnant (the Grimm, the isolationism, the racism, the Grimm, the fear, the lack of ambition, the existence of gods decided to fuck over humanity, and oh, did I mention the Grimm?), but her Semblance was not one of these things. It was _awesome_. Seriously, it was as close to magic as you could get.

Telekinesis was, at its core, the power to move matter with your mind. But it could also move energy, atoms, _pure power_. Glynda had mastered this to an art form, even before entering Beacon Academy. Her Telekinesis was all grace and precision. She could shoot bolts of concentrated energy that could take down a Grimm, or make glowing glyphs that acted as shield as impervious to damage as a force field. She could even reconstruct things by lifting them and replacing them into their original position, down to the smallest fragment. It was all a matter of visualization. By contrast, Castia didn’t have her delicacy. Oh, she could make glowing glyphs acting as shields, or reconstitute an object, but it always took her more concentration than her sister, who could do that without even batting an eyelash. No, Castia didn’t really play with the fancy, shiny, glowing part of Telekinesis. What she had, what she loved, was the _pure power_ of it.

Most of her manifestations of Telekinesis were accompanied by glowing purple, like for her sister, but there stopped all similarities. Her glyphs were redder, with a hint or crimson where Glynda’s were solid magenta. There was a difference in strength too. Glynda took down Grimm with small and precise stokes, just a bullet of light gone as fast as it had appeared. She was like a sniper. Fast, deadly, clean, incredibly accurate. Castia was… Well, she would have liked to describe herself as a martial artist, but truth was that she was more like a _missile launcher_.

Her Telekinesis wasn’t a fancy tool. Well, _it could be_ , but it wasn’t. Not like her sister’s. Glynda describer hers like a sword, of a second pair of hands. Something concrete, reliable, that she picked up and molded at her guise; something that was both easy to handle and incredibly efficient in the hands of a genius like her. But Castia described her Semblance like a roaring ocean. It was just huge, and fierce, and strong. Sure, she could do precise stuff, but it required focus to channel ju _st the right amount of power_ into _just the right angles of action_. It was hard. The more precision she needed, the more delicate she had to be, and the less power she could use. Her Semblance wasn’t meant to be used like this! It was an ocean. Controlling it was reducing it. It was supposed to run wild. No, not wild, more like… Freely. Entirely. Unrestrictedly.

So Castia threw around object weighing several tons like they were toys, with brief flash of purple light that left destruction in their wakes. She erected glyph-shields that pushed back the enemy’s attack with a violent deflagration. She unleashed blasts of power whose shockwaves flattened everything in a hundred-meter radius. She didn’t shoot precise strikes of energy to Grimm (well, to Grimm dummies, since the school wasn’t insane to the point of making them face real-life monsters), she just flattened them like pancakes. Even at age nine, when she went to watch Glynda at the Vytal’s Festival Tournament, she was already a weapon of mass destruction in her own right. Her Telekinesis wasn’t a tool; it wasn’t solid, stable, static unless directed. It was a living, moving thing, and you had to move with it. And it wasn’t _bad_. It was _far from bad_. Sure, it was more destructive than Glynda’s, and more brutal, and not as elegant or precise… But come on! It was the power of the Force, for fuck’s sake. It was great! It felt great! How could she not enjoy this? She could lift tons of rocks _with a flick of her fingers_. She could punch stuff with an invisible force that flattened an armored car like an empty can of soda! She was strong. She wasn’t stronger than her sister, not yet, but she would be. Oh, she would never be as precise, as controlled, as advanced, as good as her. Her teachers keep repeating it. But she had more raw power, and _she freaking loved it_.

She thought that Telekinesis was her best tool, and she was incredibly proud of it. But surprisingly, it wasn’t because of it that Ozpin noticed her.

She hadn’t _thought_ that he would notice her. Even if she was his best student’s sister. Who could not notice Glynda? She was twenty, she was young, beautiful and successful. It was her last year at Beacon and she was making the Academy triumph at the Tournament. She didn’t even _need_ to win: she had several jobs offer already lined up. It was like Glynda Goodwitch couldn’t fail at anything… So Ozpin probably already had his eyes on her for a while, to bring her in his inner circle and tell her about Salem. After all, she would be the best defender Beacon could ever hope to have. But it hadn’t happened yet.

What happened was that Castia spent a full day running around in Beacon, exploring the place, eating snacks, enjoying the party, and cheering on her sister during the fights (which were absolutely epic, by the way). Glynda didn’t seem to have many friends at the Academy. She was always aloof and straight-laced. But her face softened when Castia excitedly babbled about how awesome she had been, and so she let herself be convinced to guide her baby sister around Beacon.

“Are you really going to keep your crop as your only weapon?” Castia asked enthusiastically while following her eldest in the halls. “I mean, I have nothing against it, it’s really grand to see you flatten all those over-compensating idiots with giants hammer while you just have that tiny thing in your hands, but a gun would be more badass!”

Her sister snorted:

“Language, Castia.”

“Sorry. But really, what about a gun?! Or a sword?!”

Castia wanted a gun, personally. Or a sword. Or two swords. Or two guns. Sure, her Telekinesis was more than enough to crush Grimm, but she really liked to physically beat up her opponents.

“Guns lack elegance,” replied her sister.

Castia gasped dramatically with mock outrage. Amused, Glynda reached down to affectionately muss her hair, and her younger sister leaned in her touch like a cat. She was the only person allowed to do that: Castia would have bitten any other idiot daring to try messing her tousled bangs and her short ponytail.

“Don’t take it personality, little sister. To each his own style. Besides, it’s not like I need a distance weapon.”

“What about a sword, then? Swords are elegant. You used to have one at Central School, when you were fencing.”

But Glynda shook her head, smiling:

“I did, but it was years ago. Now, I find swords too cumbersome.”

“You’re a great swordsman thought! Everyone say so!”

“I prefer relying on my Semblance for combat. A sword would be a hindrance more than anything else. It’s good for dueling, I’ll admit, but once I graduate I will have few occasions to fight for sports.”

“You never know,” stubbornly insisted Castia. “I still think you’ll be great with a sword. And it will go great with your whole aesthetic!”

“Oh?” Glynda raised an eyebrow. “You noticed?”

Castia blinked: “That you’re pretty?”

Her sister let out a huff of laughter: “No, the whole image I’m trying to project. My _aesthetic_ , as you aptly told. Several teachers pestered me to wear armor, did you know?”

“They’re idiots,” Castia declared. “If you look like you could crush a horde of Grimm from your couch without having to set down your teacup, it’s because you can. Besides, you have Telekinesis. Why would you need armor?”

“Exactly,” approved Glynda. “And that’s why I don’t need any other additional weapons, either. I’m fine with the Disciplinarian.”

Castia made a face. Her sister was great, really, but did she have to give her weapon a name that made it sound like something right out of a BDSM club? It was bad enough that it was a _leather crop_!

Then she realized that the argument had come in full circle and that her sister had used her own words against her. No sword, then. She pouted. They lived in a fantasy world full of giant monsters and her sister insisted to carry around a riding crop of all things. Sure, she didn’t need any other weapons (she could probably defeat a dragon with nothing but a butter knife), but what about the style?!

“How is your Telekinesis by the way?” curiously enquired Glynda. “Your teachers must be starting to talk to you about what kind of weapon would work best with your Semblance by now.”

“My Telekinesis is great! I’m allowed to use it in physical training now! You’ll see when you come home this summer. I have all kind of new moves!”

A normal person would have just enhanced their jump or their punches, but Castia lived in a world where she was almost unbreakable and where she did parkour and trapeze stunts every week. Her first move had been to use her Telekinesis to _slingshot herself fifteen meters in the air_. Now, the ‘aiming for a target’ part still lacked a bit of accuracy (a meter or two could make a world of difference when moving at high speed several meters high!), but she totally had down the ‘take off the ground like a canon-ball’ part. The landing still needed some work too, but she was on it. She made make purple glyph-shields to jump onto like some kind of miraculous staircase whose steps appeared one at a time, at fifteen meters of each other. Since her Semblance was kind of _explosive_ , those glyph-shields tended to push her up as much as they slowed down her descend. It was a rocky ride.

“I’m glad to hear it,” her sister said warmly. “What about your weapon? Have you picked one? Let me guess… A gun.”

Castia stuck her tongue at her:

“There’s nothing wrong with a gun! But I haven’t decided yet. I kind of want a sword, too. Or maybe daggers that I could levitate all around me? I’m not sure. I want something cool. Something sharp and dangerous! And big!”

“So, not a crop?” deadpanned her sister.

“To each his own style,” Castia gleefully countered before frowning. “Dad says I should have a rifle with a blade, but I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right. The teachers at school aren’t helping. They all remember you. Most of them want me to get some kind of rapier. I started going over schematics for a transformable sword last week, but my mechanics teacher said that I should have something more ladylike, like you.”

“Well that man is an idiot,” Glynda immediately stated. “It’s your weapon, it’s your choice. Ignore him. Ignore all of them. Personally, I think a transformable sword would be great.”

Castia straightened proudly from all of her child’s height. It was good to know that no matter what, she had Glynda in her corner. Her sister didn’t even _like_ transformable weapons, but she supported her. Smiling, she couldn’t resist teasing:

“What happened to ‘ _be nice and listen to your teachers’_?”

“You can’t’ let other people opinions get in the way of what you want,” replied her sister completely straight-faced. “Especially because other people suck.”

Castia dissolved into delighted laughter, as she did every time Glynda swore in front of her with her perfect poker-face. It was probably the intended effect, because a tiny smile ghosted on her sister’s lips for a few seconds.

“Language, Miss Goodwitch.”

Castia almost apologized out of sheer habit (without being a vulgar person, she was way more lax with her language than her sister), but then she realized that it wasn’t addressed to her. Next to her, Glynda suddenly looked very constipated, like that time where Dad had caught them climbing the fence at five in the morning to eat the cherries of their neighbor’s tree.

They turned around and there, right behind them, slipping from a big coffee mug, was standing headmaster Ozpin.

Now, Castia didn’t really have anything against Ozpin. She liked him, even. Sure, he was mysterious and weird, and hid a lot of secrets from the main characters (sometime without any other good reasons than his personal feelings of shame). But he was a good guy, trying his best, and cursed with an impossible task. As a character, he could be frustrating, but he was relatable and sympathetic. He was also a key-player in the _Great Game Against Salem_ , and Castia was 100% percent on board with that. But he was also an adult in a position of respectability while she was a pint-sized kid caught making his best student (and future right-hand-woman) swear. She felt her ears turn red in embarrassment.

“My apologies, professor Ozpin,” Glynda rigidly replied.

“Hum,” Ozpin said, looking thoughtfully at Castia (who straightened reflexively). “And who is this young lady? I don’t think she has the required age to start the Academy.”

His eyes were scrutinizing her, but without any real interest. He was only asking out of politeness, to make small talk. Still, Glynda answered proudly:

“My younger sister. I am showing her around.”

“Oh?” Ozpin said with a smile. “Planning to apply to Beacon, Miss Goodwitch?”

Castia shrugged, trying to look casual:

“If you’ll have me. I want to graduate early.”

She had already mentioned it, in passing, but never so boldly in front of a teacher. Glynda scowled slightly:

“You should take your time and enjoy primary school. The Academy is a dangerous place. Of course, it is very formative, and I mean that in a positive sense, professor Ozpin. But you shouldn’t rush in it, Castia.”

The headmaster nodded:

“Wise advice, Miss Goodwitch the eldest. You should take your time, Miss Goodwitch the youngest. Beacon Academy will still be there when you will turn seventeen.”

_You don’t know that_ , almost replied Castia. But it would have been rude, and also very ominous. She wasn’t supposed to know that Beacon would fall; nobody was supposed to know it, or even to imagine it, after all! Still, being dismissed like that stung a bit. She was used to being taken seriously, as a little prodigy or just as Glynda’s sister. Frowning, she stubbornly crossed her arms:

“I will graduate early, so what’s the point in waiting? Besides, it’s not like I will be twirling my thumbs. I have big plans for the future.”

“Really?” Ozpin said with amusement. “Do tell.”

Glynda looked embarrassed, and Castia almost faltered. Without Glynda standing like a pillar of trust at her back, she abruptly felt very aware of being a little girl with messy hair, in a pretty dress with blue lace that made her look like a doll. All of a sudden, her big plans seemed too big. Travel the world, end poverty, establish more cities and settlements, boost the economy, launch a space telescope in the sky, discover a new constellation, get rid of all Grimm on the continent… The list was endless. Glynda had never looked down on these crazy ideas. She had always affectionately supported her little sister’s dreams. But she had never encouraged her to _share them_ either. It had never been said out loud, but right now, seeing Glynda’s embarrassment, Castia realized that her sister found her optimism cute but didn’t _really_ believe she could achieve her insane ambitions. And why would she believe it? Castia was just a child. It was one thing to dream out loud and another to claim being able to achieve the impossible in front of her headmaster.

But Castia believed in herself, or at least she forced herself to, and so she looked Ozpin in the eyes with all the self-confidence she could muster, and claimed:

“I’m going to eradicate the Grimm.”

Glynda face-palmed. Both Ozpin’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t laugh in her face. With an interest that wasn’t feigned anymore, he leaned forward:

“And how do you intent to achieve that?”

Castia’s palms were sweaty. The thing was: a lot of people may have had this ambition. But killing all the Grimm wouldn’t be enough. New ones keep appearing, after all. So killing them would be pointless. It would be like treating the symptoms without doing anything about the cause of a disease… And that was the tricky part.

Castia straightened. Her heart was beating like crazy: she had never shared those ideas with anyone but Glynda. Her sister had never mocked her, but she had never told her that she could do it, either. But Ozpin was _different_. He was Beacon’s headmaster and a small, attention-seeking part of Castia wanted to impress him. But first and foremost, he was an immortal guy who had walked this earth for centuries; if there was someone who could believe her, it was him. So she swallowed, and told him.

“Well, the Grimm come from the unknown, the lands far from any human presence. So, to eradicate them, they have to be cast out from humans lands; and the humans lands have to expand until no place is unknown, until no place can spawn more Grimm.”

There was probably a better solution somewhere, but well, Castia hadn’t found it yet. So _that_ was the instantly obvious solution to her. To make Remnant safe, to eradicate the Grimm, she needed… _People_ needed to increase the desire to move, to spread, to settle. Then they would need to increase the birthrates and get the population booming. Like the American Manifest Destiny of expansion. I mean, in her old world, that stuff had been pretty bad and had lead to a genocide… But since there was no indigenous people to massacre in the world of Remnant… Well. It was worth a shot.

After all, what other options did they have? Because if people stayed stuck behind their walls, Ba-Sing-Se-style, well, they would just die out.

“What an interesting thought,” murmured Ozpin who was looking at her with new assessing eyes. “Very ambitious, too. What gave you this idea?”

The atmosphere seemed almost heavier, as if the weight of his interest was a physical thing. He was seeing her, now. Castia hesitated:

“Why wouldn’t I have it?”

But she already knew the answer. In this universe, people lacked ambition. Mankind wasn’t the dominant species. People were _prey_ , and they never forgot it. The world of Remnant wasn’t the kind of place where a child dreamed of touching the stars, or becoming President, or anything like that. Here, they dreamed of starting families and having warm, secure homes. They didn’t dream of _living_ , they dreamed of _not being killed_. When Castia played games with her classmates, nobody ever talked about conquering lands, or about achieving a decisive victory in an imaginary war, or just about building something revolutionary. Children played with idea that they had learned, and nobody had taught them about dreaming to be _more_. So their games always used the same stories: escaping a monster, not losing a fight, hiding from danger. Even in children’s plays, victory was something tin and unsatisfactory, just the right to live another day.

It was just sad, when you thought about it.

But Castia had lived another life before being born here, and she remembered what it was to not be afraid. She hated that fear, this lack of safety, this lack of certainty. She wanted more from the world. _She wanted people to want more_. She wanted to vent her frustration with people’s passive hopelessness, but she couldn’t even find the right words to express it. As a child, she wasn’t a good orator. Sometimes, she entertained the idea of becoming one, of sharing her want for more across the kingdom. She didn’t want to be a politician. But… Yeah, it would be nice to not just _survive_ to Salem but also lead people into a better world. Make them safer, happier. And for that, there was only one way: to eradicate the Grimm.

She didn’t answer Ozpin. She wouldn’t have a satisfactory answer to give him, besides the fact that she desperately wanted more than what this world had to offer, and that she had so much hope inside her that she felt it was her duty to share it with the rest of the universe. The headmaster scrutinized her a few more second, then inclined his head with a faint smile:

“Don’t hesitate to apply to Beacon, Miss Goodwitch. I can’t wait to see where this dream will lead you.”

Her face light up: “Really?”

“Of course,” blinked Ozpin. “Mark my words: you’ll do extraordinary things, Castia Goodwitch. I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”

He slipped from his mug, and turned on his heels, heading toward another corridor. Before leaving, he looked over his shoulder to Glynda and said, almost as an afterthought:

“Oh, and please, do think about my offer, Miss Goodwitch the eldest. Beacon Academy would be lucky to have you in its staff.”

**oOoOoOo**

Meeting Ozpin marked a step in Castia’s life. It was her first time meeting a canon character (other than her sister). The first time she tentatively shared her ambitions. The first time, too, that her sister and her argued.

It wasn’t really an argument. More of a minor hurt that neither managed to forget. Castia had felt a hurt by her sister’s lack of support, but she never brought herself to tell her. In the following days, Glynda worriedly lectured her about being too ambitious, too reckless, too unrealistic, and… Now, it made sense. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but… Of course her sister didn’t believe her to be able to get the world of Remnant rid of the Grimm. Castia felt stupid to not have realized it before. _Of course_ Glynda had believed her stories to be foolish dreams: commendable ideas, of course, but not a viable life-goal. Glynda hadn’t even believed that Castia _herself_ believed it. She thought her baby sister had made that up, to brag, to dream, to play make-believe. It was too insane. And… It hurt, to know she had naively poured out her heart to her sister, but hadn’t been taken seriously.

“I know you want to be a great Huntress and help people,” had said Glynda reassuringly. “But you don’t have to go that far, to reach for the impossible. Sure, it sounds impressive, but… It’s too exaggerated. Professor Ozpin admired your drive, but others people may just dismiss you for your naivety.”

“I’m not naïve!” Castia had protested, voice shaking and fist balled uselessly.

“Of course not. But maybe stick to a more realistic story next time. It’s more relatable that way.”

_It’s not about being relatable, it’s about being true!_ Castia wanted to yell. _Why can’t’ you believe me? What can’t you believe_ in _me?!_

But she was afraid her voice would break and that she would cry. She felt angry and betrayed and so terribly sad. So she didn’t say anything. She closed up like a clamp. It hurt much more than she thought it would. _Stick to a more realistic story_. It was an advice given with kindness and good intentions, but oh, it hurt, a sharp pain like fury and betrayal and loneliness all rolled in one. She felt stupid. _Glynda didn’t believe her._ Glynda had, perhaps, never believed her. And she wasn’t even dismissive about it. She was just kind, and patient, and worried about Castia getting disappointed. She loved her, so of course when she heard her impossible dreams, she was worried that Castia had bitten more than she could chew. As an older sister, she felt responsible. There was a hint of concern in her voice, too. Almost as if she felt guilty. Well, maybe she did. Maybe she thought her acceptance had encouraged Castia to believe she could do this, to the point where she had bragged about it in front of Beacon’s headmaster.

Glynda was worried, incredulous, and felt guilty. Castia’s ideas had made her fond and happy, but not anymore, not now that her baby sister was talking about walking an impossible path. It stung. So Castia stopped talking about it. She kept her ambitions close to her chest. Make one day, she would find someone who believed in her dreams, like Ozpin seemed to… But that person wasn’t her sister.

And of course, why would Glynda believe that her baby sister could do those impossible things? To rid the universe of Grimm. To make humankind prosper and expand. It was madness. Even at nine years old and full of confidence, Castia felt small when she thought about how she was supposed to inspire that kind of change. Sure, it was her dream, but making it happen with her own two hands was unfathomable some days. Couldn’t she give those ideas to people like Ozpin, Ironwood, or even Ruby? She wasn’t as charismatic as them. She was… She was nothing out of the ordinary. She had a good family name but it was worthless outside of Vale, and she had a powerful Semblance but it didn’t make her exceptional. She had the potential to be good Huntress, but she wasn’t _special_. It’s one thing for the great Emperor of Mankind to declare that Humanity will never fall to the Alien, or for someone like the Avatar to balance the Spirit World and the Human World, but she was just some random girl. Sure, she had been reincarnated, but that didn’t make her better. She had been given no higher purpose, no lady had come out of a lake to throw a big shiny sword at her, and she hadn’t found a flaming bush or some carved tablets.

She was just an average kid, stuck in a world Hannibal Lecter would have shuddered at, with a heart full of hope and a head full of dreams. She desperately wanted to help people. And so the short term stuff would be to beat Salem an all that jazz, but long-term… Long-term, things needed to change around here. The people need to be enraged at the way they lived; they needed to furiously want more. They need to exterminate the soulless abominations that infest their world. They need a fire in their hearts, to burn with the desire to have more, to _be_ more.

Maybe it wasn’t a job for tiny and average Castia Goodwitch. But damnit, that was a job that she would see done. Even her sister’s lack of confidence couldn’t extinguish that belief steadily burning in her heart. The world deserved better, _she_ deserved better, and she was never going to stop reaching for it.

So. Castia had an idealist streak.

But she was also realistic, and she knew ideas only couldn’t change the word. Especially this world, full of nightmarish creatures and where people respected strength before anything else. Lucky her, she wasn’t lacking in strength. So she got to work, and trained with her Semblance.

She loved the rush of power that came with it. Her task of saving the world seemed daunting, even impossible, but with all that power at her fingertips, sometime she felt invincible. She could crack cliffs, pulverize buildings, throw herself in the airs like a rocket, or pummel enemies with invisible force. Her abilities were mainly offensives, which was a blessing in this universe. Glynda was more polyvalent. She could use Telekinesis at molecular level to perfectly fix broken objects (a wooden table, a delicate jewel, or even a massive wall) or even to reverse a chemical reaction. Castia couldn’t fix things more complicated than a wall, and snuffing out flames was the high of her abilities concerning chemistry. Finesse wasn’t her forte.

But she wasn’t lacking in control. As most Huntsmen-in-training did, she could do insane stunts that could make any professional acrobat drool with envy, and that required a lot of precision. Since she often mixed her acrobatics with use of her Semblance, she progressed by leaps and bounds. At ten, she enhanced most of her jumps and runs small explosion of purple energy that propelled her forward or up like a canon-ball. At eleven, she combined her style with swordsmanship, using two swords at the same time, blades almost moving on their own and spinning at a deadly speed. By age twelve, she could make daggers levitate and strike like vipers around her. Then she learned to redirect bullets and other projectiles with energy-blast. Her Semblance always wrecked a lot of collateral damages, but it was actually a bonus in a fight. Castia didn’t allow it to go to her head (knowing the kind of freaks the canon-story had in store was a good reality-check) but still, it was a great confidence-booster. She had never, even in her wildest dream, imagined being able of being this strong in her old life. But here? _Fuck yeah_. She could wreck an entire training ground _with her mind_. She could run around in high trees like it was the most demented parkour game of all time. She could basically fly like Superman. How could she not be on cloud nine? It was almost worth the Grimm!

Well, actually, scratch that. Nothing was worth the Grimm. Those were pests.

Anyway. She grew up. She grew stronger. Hand-to-hand combat, endurance training, survival in the wild… The school covered all the bases, obviously. When you knew about the insane skills of Huntsmen out there, of course, it made sense that nobody would be allowed to slack off!

Castia absorbed all knowledge like a sponge. She made her own weapons by herself. In combat training, she was basically undefeated (Telekinesis was a massive cheat-code) but even in a classroom she was pretty good. Sure, she didn’t know everything, but she had an adult mind and some things came to her pretty intuitively. Reading, thinking critically, analyzing, all that stuff. She worked hard, too, and she was the top of her class. She was a loner, thought. Not only was she a bit arrogant, but she also didn’t really get kids. She was too snippy or too abrasive or just plain awkward. No, she preferred the company of books, thank you very much.

She studied everything she could get her hands on. She had a lot of normal interests, such as History, geography, politics, normal stuff for a girl who wanted to be a Huntress and travel the world (and who didn’t claim to want and change it, but didn’t want it any less). But she also had a wide variety of weird interest. Auras, philosophy, literature, poetry, astronomy, even knitting: things that weren’t really important in this world, and were often dismissed by Huntsmen.

Truth was, Castia looked for familiarity. The stars were all wrong; it wasn’t the sky she had known in her old life. There was no great bear, twins, lyre, lion or centaur in those constellations. Philosophy was weird, as weird as this world: some schools of thought had never taken off, and others had risen in their place. But in the end, nobody could explain death, or the Grimm, or just human nature. Literature was lacking. Between constant invasions, war, and the fear of Grimm, people never really had time for fiction. Oh, people liked to dream, but they didn’t reach very far. Romance books flourished but they used the same tropes again and again. Meanwhile mystery novels were pretty rare, and fantasy was barely a thing. Poetry was something that wasn’t even taught unless you went looking for it: no poet ever had time to get famous, everybody being too preoccupied with not dying to take the time to publish sonnets.

But there were similarities. In this unfamiliar night sky, there a northern star, for example, and a constellation named after a mythological princess. Philosophers like Platon had never walked this world, but democracy was wildly known. There were books she recognized, too: an Atlesian woman had written the equivalent of The _Art Of War_ of Sun Tzu, almost word for word, and some Shakespeare plays existed, written by a Mistrali guy named Horatio. It wasn’t much, but it was comforting.

It wasn’t her old world, but it was home. So Castia learned the names of the stars, and made this new sky her own. She read books she had never heard of before, and learned to like new authors. She wrote, too. At first, she tried to write stories like Harry Potter or Narnia, but the knowledge slipped from her mind like water between her fingers. She was already forgetting. Sometime, she had a flash of insight: a quote, a few words, a verse from a song, a rhyme from a poem, a scene from a movie. But it was just a fragment, adrift. She wrote them anyway.

Those words weren’t hers but at the same time, they were. The old world she remembered only existed in her mind, now. What she could bring back with her, even if it was her clumsy prose mixed with others’ poetry, was something only her could create. She was like a whole universe, trapped in a person, and fading a little bit every day. Was she going to forget her old life? Sometime it seemed already so far away. She was Castia Goodwitch, now. She didn’t need any other name. She wasn’t even sure of remembering her old one.

But the knowledge about this world? Oh, she remembered everything. Funny, how memories worked. Maybe it was because she had focused of this knowledge, and had thought about it again and again, etching it in her brain while the rest faded slowly? Or maybe being in the World of Remnant had unconsciously triggered all of her dormant memories of watching the RWBY anime, to the point where those images were more vivid than anything else in her recollection of her past-life? No matter. In any case, Castia knew a lot of things about the future, and made a point to update her knowledge in every domain. Aura? Check. Weapons? Check. History? Check. She couldn’t make any plan relying on faulty information.

So Castia grew. She still loved her sister, and Glynda still loved her, but they weren’t as close as before now. Part of it was the physical distance: Glynda was a fully-fledged Huntress now, and even if she didn’t leave Vale, she was moving around a lot. Part of it was simply that they had grown apart. Glynda was an adult, a Huntress, killing monsters for a living. Even if she always had time for her father or her sister, she had different friends and different interests now, and she wasn’t evolving in the same world as them. Part of it was also the fact that Castia wasn’t as clingy as before. She still admired her sister but she had learned that even Glynda could hurt her, or disappoint her. She had to be her own person, and learn stand by herself, on her own.

It had its good sides. Castia was praised for throwing herself into her training. Teachers didn’t compare her to her sister so often. But it also had its downside. The lack of comparison with Glynda was bittersweet. She didn’t know if she loved to be her own person or if she missed having the ghost of Glynda’s reputation by her side.

“Do the teachers at Central remember me?” curiously inquired Glynda one day when she picked up Castia from school (and that she waved at one of the newest teacher).

Castia pinched her nose, thinking:

“The one who had you as a student do. But most of them have stopped comparing me to you… The math teacher still sings your praise every time I screw up an exam, thought.”

Her sister threw her a sharp look:

“Still? Well, he shouldn’t. It’s been years. He should know you as your own person by now. Your strength and mine aren’t the same and there is no shame in it.”

Damn Glynda and her perceptiveness. See, that was why Castia couldn’t be mad at her for being so much better, so much more responsible, so much more adult and competent. Glynda knew her, her flaws, things that pissed her off, weakness and all, and she still loved her. She was always ready to throw down with anyone who bothered her little sister.

“It’s fine,” Castia shrugged with a grin. “Besides, everyone who has seen me fight can’t ever go back to thinking I’m your copy.”

Her sister smirked: “Must be the swords.”

Glynda’s weapon was her crop, the Disciplinarian. She used it to direct and focus her Telekinesis, and there was a hidden Dust compartment in the handle. Nothing more. But Castia had a fondness for firearms and blades, and so her weapons were two swords with large and flat blades, almost-machete-like, that could collapse and transform into a pair of futuristic-looking guns. The color scheme was purple, like her Semblance or her clothing. Her swords were both bulky and pretty, all gleaming steel with lilac hints, with dark magenta for the handles, and burgundy for the sliding mechanisms. Hence their name: _Twin Twilight_. For a weapon entirely purple, it looked more threatening than girly, something that made Castia pretty proud. After all, she had made them herself. Well, not the blade part, but the firearm and the transformation part. She was actually in the top tier of her mechanist class. In her old world, she would have been a genius, but in a universe full of transformable weapons and advanced robotics, the norm was a bit different.

Her blades and her bullets (and her occasional punch with the gun as a blunt weapon) were already deadly on their own, but coupled with her Semblance… It was pretty awesome. Her fighting style used them to their maximum, too. Where Glynda didn’t need to move to destroy shit around her, Castia preferred to use her Semblance to bounce around like a living wrecking ball, slashing stuff, leaping in the air and smashing her way down, throwing things in every directions with her mind. In any case, she was an extremely destructive fighter, with a pretty unforgettable style… That had nothing in common with her sister’s.

“Must be the swords,” Castia agreed, smirking. “Or your three-inches hells. How do you walk with that?”

“With elegance,” her sister replied with dignity. “You should try it.”

“I’m plenty elegant!”

“You don’t wear any jewelry!”

“Because it’s impractical!”

Glynda wore heels, a skirt, a fancy-looking shirt, a short cape, and jewelry. All in black and white, with hint of purple fabric, or green jewelry to match her eyes. She was the picture of elegance. Of course, in her clothing choices, Castia sought to emulate her… But really, she couldn’t phantom why she would wear heels or a skirt in a combat situation. So she wore laced boots (black), trousers (grey), a high-collared top (white), and a short jacket (purple, but with burgundy lapels to match Twin Twilight) on top of it.

“You should try it,” advised her sister. “It’s not because we have chosen a profession stepped in violence that we can’t be feminine. Style is important!”

Castia shrugged. She liked her long hair and being well-dressed, but that was it. Besides, even at twelve, she was taller and less slender that her sister had been at that age. Glynda was all willowy, like a model or something. She got that from their mother. Castia had the stature of their father, with broad shoulders and long legs. She was slim, alright, but she looked like a girl who did sports several hours a week instead of an advertisement for a fashion magazine.

“I dunno. Seems more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, earrings are easy to grab in a fight and rings can hurt when punching people.”

She hadn’t spent years in a boxing club for nothing. Her agility, pretty ensemble, and dangerously versatile power all belied the fact that her go-to attack was an uppercut strong enough to crack bricks. Glynda shook her head fondly:

“You are so reckless some time. I wish you would be more careful.”

It was an old refrain. And, each times, Castia laughed and said, only half-joking:

“You know me. I never bite more than I can chew.”

**oOoOoOo**

When Castia was thirteen, Glynda became a teacher at Beacon Academy.

She was twenty-four and one of the best Huntress of the country. She had always been great, even at a student, and barely four years of real Huntress work had been enough to make her stronger than most seasoned veterans. Of course, her family was very proud. Castia was pretty excited: now that Glynda was a teacher at the Academy, she would have to move back in the city, and they could see each other more often. And… Maybe she would introduce her to Ozpin’s group (which Castia had privately dubbed ‘ _the Ozluminati’_ ).

Alright, she knew it was a long-shot. It was top-secret for a reason. But fuck it, to help people she needed a starting point, and Ozpin was a pretty good one. After all, he was humanity’s champion. Well, secret champion. Unless it was more like the gods’ champion? Bah, who cared. The thing was, Ozpin was important. Not only by himself, but also because he collected important people. Qrow, Ruby’s mother, Ruby’s herself, the Maidens, the headmasters of the others Academy. He wasn’t the hero of the story like Ruby was, but he was a cornerstone of it.

He was also pretty funny as a person, from what Castia remembered of the story. And he was the only person to ever have believed Castia’s dream to be possible.

Since their first meeting at Beacon when she had been nine, Castia hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t surprising: she didn’t have an occasion to go to Beacon Academy, and it wasn’t as if the headmaster had any reason to seek her out. He had kept an eye on her sister, thought. Even before she accepted his job offer, they kept in touch.

So Castia stayed aware of Ozpin’s existence. And when Glynda took on her new job, she innocently started inquiring about it. Was Ozpin a good boss? Could he accept students younger than seventeen? Was a fun to be around? What was his Semblance? She was curious about him and never hid it. Glynda usually rolled her eyes and evaded the questions. She probably found them dumb. Castia didn’t really care. She would be a part of their inner circle one day, she was sure of it.

But gaining access to it wouldn’t be easy. Glynda, who was Ozpin’s protégée and the most powerful Huntress of the country, wasn’t introduced to it before six month into her new job. She didn’t tell her family, obviously. But Castia could pinpoint the _exact day_ where her sister had been told about Salem. Glynda went home that day with an almost haunted look on her face and, in the following weeks, tentatively tried to make Castia reconsider her decision to be a Huntress. She asked her if she was sure. She watched her going to school with worried eyes. When she mentioned other jobs, safer jobs like engineer or teacher, she almost had a pleading look on her face. Castia could have been offended by it, but he saw the far look in her eyes, as if Glynda was thinking about horrible things that she couldn’t bring herself to speak about, and… She knew why her sister worried. Sure, she was a bit miffed by it, but how could she be angry against Glynda? She understood her fear. Hell, she shared it, in some way. She even had longer than her to make her piece with reality.

Glynda didn’t rage or cry at her little sister’s resolve to be a Huntress. She seemed strangely resigned. It was probably weird for her. She had made herself strong enough to keep everyone safe, and now she was learning that she would never be strong enough anyway. She couldn’t protect the world from an immortal witch. Humankind had to save itself.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be something else?” she still asked, almost sadly. “You would be safer. I want you to be safe.”

Castia didn’t have the heart to tell her that her choice had been made years ago, but her answer was the same. She shook her head, and said as kindly as she could:

“A ship in the harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.”

Her sister looked at her, eyes full for sorrow, and sighed.

“No,” she said softly. “I suppose you are right.”

She didn’t raise the subject again. Castia took some comfort in the fact that her sister, so competent and so much more mature than her, was taking her seriously. She couldn’t shake a hint of unease (Glynda had given up too easily, it couldn’t be that simple…) but managed to ignore it. _Glynda trusted her_. Glynda had always trusted her. She worried, she wanted to keep her safe, but in the end, she believed that her little sister could make her own decisions. The fact that she didn’t believe Castia to be able to get the world rid of the Grimm was something normal, not the sign of lack of confidence. The Goodwitch sisters trusted each others with their lives, after all.

Glynda moved on. She focused on her work. She lived at Beacon now, and was often busy. On the news, she paid more attention to the political climate. She was sometime sent on missions she didn’t talk about. She started having a lot of contacts overseas, that she mentioned at diner in an offhand manner without ever telling when and how they had met. She still made time for her family, but it was Dad and Castia who had to come to her now. Glynda was too busy to come to dinner every week, even if she was in the same city as them. Ozpin would probably have given her time off, but Glynda was committed to her job, or maybe more to her mission. And if that mission was _saving the world_ , well, Castia couldn’t blame her.

Having to go to Glynda instead of waiting for her to come home was fine with Castia anyway. She didn’t mind going to Beacon. Often, she didn’t even walk past the front door. Some kind of security rang Glynda and she went to meet her immediately. But others times, she was let in and crossed the campus to join Glynda in her apartments or in her office. Teachers politely greeted her, and students watched her with curiosity, but nobody bothered her. She didn’t make trouble and it was enough. Sometime she itched to test one of their training grounds, but wrecking a whole forest wouldn’t have been very smart if she wanted to be accepted in this Academy! She settled for just spending time with her sister. Sometime she did her homework while Glynda worked, sometime they just talked while her sister walked her home, and sometime they did precision exercises with their Telekinesis. Glynda refused to do any combat training as long as Castia wasn’t a student here, but she always agreed to teach her some tricks. Like how to levitate some plates and water in the sink to do dishes wizard-style. Or how to study rocks and mineral to better fuse them when building a wall with her Telekinesis. Or how to screw and unscrew tiny pieces of machinery (which was very handy when Castia didn’t have a screwdriver to tinkle with her Twin Twilight).

Castia once waved at Ozpin through a window, but she didn’t officially meet him again until she was fourteen.

She had skipped another grade at school. Being two years younger than her classmates suddenly was a bit of a problem. She had no trouble keeping up academically, but even thought she was tall for her age, she was smaller than everyone else… And in close-combat, it held her at a disadvantage. Sure, her Semblance was a great cheat-code, but the teachers refused to let her rely on Telekinesis in pure physical training. So in hand-to-hand combat, in agility training, in race…. Well. She fell from the top of her class to the lower half. To remedy that, her teachers decided that she would stay with her old class (aged fifteen) for all of her physical training. They were still one year older, but the gap wasn’t as important as with a bunch of sixteen years-old where everyone had hit their grown-spur.

It made sense, but Castia wasn’t very happy about it. Splitting her time between two classes meant that she was splitting her time between two groups of people. She already had a hard time having a friendly relationship with the other kids, and that was when she was locked _seven hours a day_ with them. Sure, she was still on good terms with the others kids, but more often than not she was the one eating lunch alone, or picked last for a group project. She was too bossy, too awkward, too easily annoyed. She just… didn’t really fit. She didn’t share many interest with the others teenagers. She wasn’t interested in the same books, the same shows, the same gossip, or even the same games. That was the big drawback about hanging out with her sister all the time: her interest aligned more with those of an adult, and she couldn’t relate to teenagers.

As a result, she started to spend more and more time at Beacon. She went there straight after school, almost every day. Being there so often meant that she crossed path more and more with teachers and students alike, and she started becoming a familiar figure in those halls. Teachers inquired about her grades, patted her shoulder when she complained, and even sometime gave her some stuff to do while she waited for her sister. The librarian allowed her to read advanced books if she helped her clean up the place. The vice-headmaster, an old man who was going to retire within a few years, let her access the armory. They all indulged her, as Glynda’s little sister but also as a very promising Huntress-in-training. While Glynda was adamantly against her graduating early from the primary combat school, others teachers discreetly told her that they would be glad to have her at Beacon.

It was always nice to hear.

Anyway. During that year, Castia spent a lot of time at Beacon and, obviously, she met several canon characters. The teachers, for starter. But she also met the main characters’ parents: Team STRQ. Well, to say that she _met_ them was a bit much: they never talked. They saw each other on campus and were probably aware of each other existence (at least, she assumed they were, because they never acted curious or surprised when they saw her on the grounds). Summer, Taiyang, Qrow and Raven were twenty, and it was their last year at Beacon: they didn’t have time to hang out with the school’s mascot. Most students didn’t either, and Castia kept her distance. Team STRQ was the only one she couldn’t help but watch. What? They were important! Besides, it wasn’t as if she was stalking them. She was way under their level and she didn’t want to piss them off. So she just tried to peek at their training ground, or watched them walk across campus without being noticed. It wasn’t hard: a lot of people watched them too. They were very charismatic. Their team leader, Summer Rose, was pretty, kind, and had a witty sense of humor as well a ruthless streak in a fight. Then there was Taiyang Xio Long, the golden boy: he was clever, handsome, and had a knack for drawing attention to himself and calm down people. He needed it, with their two other teammates… Qrow Branwen was handsome (Castia had _eyes_ , thank you very much) but he was also a cheeky little shit, mischievous at times and weirdly sinister at others. He was already drinking, but it was more to be provocative than a true addiction… For now, at least. His sister was even worse. Raven had an incredible magnetism, drawing people to her like moths to a flame, but she was also curt and sardonic, probably the most abrasive of the four.

But back to Ozpin. He was busy running a school (and a conspiracy), so not seeing him was pretty normal. Still, Glynda seemed to be taking extra-care to avoid him meeting Castia. She was probably actively running interference with the others teachers. It was the only explanation for the fact that Castia spent the better part of her evening at Beacon for _six months_ without meeting the headmaster face to face. Castia didn’t raise the subject, embarrassed at the thought of being paranoid, but she was bit peeved. What was Glynda afraid of? That Castia would ask for immediate transfer to Beacon? That she would brag about wanting to save the world? That Ozpin would recruit her in his secret brotherhood?

… Probably. Glynda had accepted that Castia was going to be a Huntress, but that didn’t meant she was happy about it. Every time that she mentioned graduating early, Glynda shut off the conversation. Same thing when Castia talked about getting a job at Beacon later. Everything that could attract Ozpin’s attention was a big _no_. Glynda was so overprotective…

But even so, she couldn’t delay the inevitable, and Castia ended up crossing paths with the headmaster.

She was skipping through the corridors, her bag slung over her shoulder and whistling cheerfully. Her lessons had ended early. At this time of the day, Glynda was still in class, and Castia had time to kill. She hoped to get her homework done by the time her sister finished her work, so they could hang out longer. Maybe they could practice Telekinesis? Glynda refused to train her to fight (again, probably because of her reluctance to see Castia fling herself in dangerous things before her seventeenth birthday, which Castia found ridiculous) but fighting wasn’t all that her Telekinesis could do. Maybe some precision exercises? Or training to rebuild things?

She rounded a corner and almost smashed into Ozpin. She skidded to a stop with a yelp, but the headmaster still had to jump back to avoid getting head-butted by a teenager in a hurry.

“Sorry!” she stuttered. “I didn’t see you!”

“Miss Goodwitch the youngest,” Ozpin blinked, looking a bit surprised. “Don’t apologize, there was no harm done. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I was on my way to the library,” Castia said, a bit defensively.

“Indeed, Glynda should still have an hour or so to teach,” hummed Ozpin pensively. “And you often join her in the evening, I recall.”

“I like to hang out with her,” Castia shrugged. “Besides, besides training, I don’t have much to do.”

Ozpin raised an eyebrow:

“Really? Don’t you have friend your own age?”

Nope. Being a grown woman reincarnated as a child and only hanging out with adults had kind of screwed her up. In term of interests, she had passed straight from annoying kid to boring grandma. She loved astronomy, poetry, and knitting. Her others interests were guns, swords, and boxing, but she never talked about it in a cool manner that would have impressed her classmates. She had weird tastes in music, never read romance books, and didn’t go to the movies. She was a prodigy in class and it isolated her. Add to that her general disdain for kids and… Well. School sucked. So Castia evaded:

“Teenagers are boring.”

Ozpin snorted in amusement, then started walking towards the library, beckoning her to follow:

“Come on, no use standing there catching a cold. I’m heading to the library too.”

Castia didn’t really believe it (after all, he was walking into the _opposite_ direction when she had bumped into him) but she knew better that to question the headmaster who was probably just angling to talk to her. Maybe he was curious about Glynda’s little sister. After all, he had recruited Glynda because she was a powerhouse, so why not recruit the other person using Telekinesis? From a strategic viewpoint, it was pretty logical. The Goodwitch were powerful, and Ozpin was leading a _war_. He needed powerful people at his back. Or maybe he remembered their conversation from five years ago. Castia did, at any rate. It had quite an impact on her.

They made small talk. How she had been those last few years, how was school, how was Glynda. What her favorite color was (purple, no surprise here). What was her weapon of choice, and why. Castia described at length her training, and how she used Telekinesis to fling herself in the air, making the battlefield three-dimensional. She talked about her idea for more moves, more evasive maneuvers, more audacious strikes using improbable angles of attack. Of course, she couldn’t very well explain that her idea for that came from her old life (more exactly, from a bunch of shonen anime she had watched before, well, dying and being reincarnated), but she managed to make it sound plausible. It was nice. Ozpin was a good listener, humming at the right moments and asking sensible questions. Castia was almost sure he was just being polite, thought. He didn’t talk much. Actually, he didn’t offer any information, at all. He was a good listener, but not a very invested one… Maybe he didn’t remember her, after all. She couldn’t help but fell a flicker of disappointment.

Then, as if he could read her thoughts, Ozpin suddenly asked:

“Do you remember the last time we talked?”

Holy shit, he _did_ remember! Castia squeaked:

“I do, sir! It was at the Vytal Festival, and I said…”

Her voice trailed off. Five years keeping her ambitions silent had made them more daunting to tell out loud. But Ozpin picked up where she had left:

“You said that you wanted to get the world rid of the Grimm. You had quite the plan to do it, too. Is that still true?”

She looked down, embarrassed, but didn’t let her voice waver.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “It’s still true. I want to take the world back from them.”

Ozpin hummed thoughtfully.

“What an interesting turn of phrase. As if Grimm aren’t older than humankind.”

And Ozpin would know that, she realized. But she just shrugged:

“So what? It should have been our. It probably had been ours, once upon a time. We just can’t remember it. There is so much history lost because of the constant destruction they cause. Entire empires had fallen and we don’t even remember their names.”

Ozpin kept silent a few seconds. Maybe he did remember those names. Finally, he said:

“Your sister is very adamant about keeping you safe. Well, as safe as a Huntress can be. I’m guessing she doesn’t believe that you actually intent to follow this pipe dream.”

“It’s not a _pipe dream_ ,” Castia snapped. “Of course Glynda doesn’t believe it, she still thinks I’m a kid. Even if she has accepted the fact that I’m going to be a Huntress, she’s still trying to slow me down to protect me from the world. But I don’t need protection. And I _will_ get the world rid of the Grimm… Or at least, I will start the job for the future generations to come. We deserves better than this shit-show run by walking nightmares!”

She caught her breath, her face burning in anger and embarrassment both. She had a temper, she knew it, but she wasn’t usually so quick to lash out. Maybe because she didn’t usually talk about think that mattered to her. Neither Dad or Glynda ever tried talking to her about fighting, changing the world, death, loss, courage, resolve, ambition, or dreams to follow. Apparently, when she cared about a subject, Castia got passionate real quick.

“Indeed we do,” Ozpin murmured without looking at her. “But do you believe you have what it take to achieve it? Humanity had walked this earth for centuries, and nobody has ever beaten the Grimm.”

Castia straightened. Yes, she knew. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t extraordinary. She had found no burning bush and no enchanted sword, she had been gifted no special powers. But she was here, she was alive and she had to try.

“So? It’s not because no one has ever succeeded that we should give up any expectation of succeeding. Sure, there had been defeats. There will be more. We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

She was pretty sure it was a quote from Martin Luther King, but Ozpin probably wouldn’t recognize it. She risked a glance to him. Indeed, he was looking suitably impressed with her wit.

“Very inspirational,” he complimented her. “But let me ask you one last question… Do you believe this is the right time? We have just achieved peace between the kingdoms. It may be too early to hope for universal cooperation. Those kinds of things take time.”

Castia thought about humankind, war, tensions, sabotage, how easily Salem had them at each others’ throats. Ozpin was right. His _god-given task_ was to bring humanity together and he still hadn’t managed it after hundreds of reincarnations. She felt insignificant, next to that. However… It wasn’t a reason to give up. Sure, the best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. But the second best time was now.

“I know,” she said softly. “But I can’t keep waiting and doing nothing because I’m telling myself it’s too soon or too late. I’m here, now, and I only have one life. This is how I want to spent it.”

They were almost at the library, and she glanced at him. He looked satisfied with her answer. A bit sad, too. She felt her heart squeeze a little. She would be sad too, if she had been waging a war for centuries and still had little kids asking to fight (to die) in it.

They stopped in front of the big doors guarding the entrance to the library. Quietly, Ozpin said:

“You have an admirable drive, Miss Goodwitch. I told you before, and I still believe it: you’ll do great things. You’re not the only one fighting for humanity’s victory. But you have to be patient.”

“What does that mean?” Castia asked avidly.

_Not the only one fighting for humanity’s victory_ … Was it an allusion to the Ozluminati? Was it a clue? But Ozpin just smiled mysteriously.

“It means,” he said slowly, “that I will tell you more when you will graduate.”

She narrowed her eyes. That sounded like a promise. Even better, that sounded like the first step into getting introduced to the Ozluminati. Finally, her goal was within her reach. Even Glynda couldn’t stop her now.

Game on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Tower of Babel never got off the ground floor on this world: it was strangled in the cradle, and its destroyers still lingered in the ruins" is such a raw quote. I'm pretty sure I read it somewhere, because I had it saved on my computer for _years_ in an old file, but I can't freaking rememeber where it came from. Is that a song ?! A book ? A fanfic ?! Who know. Certainly not me.  
> Anyway. Hope you liked it !


	3. First thunderstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tank you all for you comments ! It bring light in my day like you wouldn't believe. Things are prett hard at work these day, so fanfiction is my escape =)
> 
> Anyway ! Without waiting any further.... The life of Castia Goodwitch, from age fifteen to sixteen !
> 
> Just so you know... Well' meet some others canon characters, and some OC as well !

****

Castia didn’t graduate at fifteen. She was crushed.

Well, technically, she _did_ complete her primary schooling. She could have graduated. But there were technicalities… And one of them, that she hadn’t see coming, stopped her. Because graduating required actually being accepted into the next level of schooling, and Beacon rejected her application.

Five month had passed since her meeting with Ozpin. The school year had ended. Exams came and went. She aced every test they threw at her, right next to the seventeen years-old that had been her classmates this last year. But graduating from primary combat school, especially if you weren’t legal (which, at fifteen, Castia definitely wasn’t), wasn’t just a matter of passing some test. It was a _combat school_. Trained fighters weren’t just let out to run wild. To obtain their diplomas, they were required to be accepted into the next level of schooling. For most people, it was a Huntsmen Academy, but it could also be a military school, or even getting an internship. Anyway, Castia completed her normal schooling but, as she wasn’t accepted into Beacon Academy (and foolishly hadn’t applied anywhere else), she was still stuck in combat training for two whole years.

She had been so sure she was going to be accepted. So sure! She had sent only two letters to ask for early entrance at the Academy: one to Ozpin and one to his vice-headmaster. She didn’t think she needed more. And in truth, she didn’t, not really. With her grades, there was no obstacle to her acceptation, even if she was two years younger than the average graduate. She didn’t worry when she didn’t get an immediate answer. She thought it would be simple. Glynda hadn’t said anything. Ozpin wanted her in his conspiracy. Easy, right?

But she was wrong. A few days later, in the middle of her summer vacations, Ozpin had replied with a very polite letter, saying that he would have been proud to count her among his student but that he couldn’t accept a fifteen-year old without exceptional circumstances. The vice-headmaster hadn’t replied at all. Costa quickly found out why: it was Glynda who handled his mail. The _why_ of Castia’s non-acceptance to Beacon ceased to be a mystery. Glynda had blocked it. It was the only explanation.

After the dismay came the rage. For weeks Glynda had knew, Glynda had interfered, and she had said nothing! How could she do this? How could she dare to do this?! It was Castia’s life! She was ready! And Glynda didn’t even have the decency to tell her beforehand. No, she had just blocked her acceptance, behind her back, like a fucking snake! She had the gall to come home and have dinner and look Castia in the eyes, for weeks, as if she hadn’t stabbed her in the back!

It was the first time she and her sister argued. This time, it wasn’t a quiet hurt that they tried to bury, a shard of bitter disappointment that they could work around. Not, this time it was full-on yelling and screaming, full of anger and rage and hurt feelings, and it was fucking messy.

“You already knew I was against it!” Glynda hissed.

“THAT DIDN’T GAVE YOU THE RIGHT!” screamed Castia. “NOTHING GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO DIRECT MY LIFE LIKE THAT!”

“I am your sister!” she snapped back. “I have to protect you!”

“BULLSHIT! If this was about protecting me, you wouldn’t have to go behind my back LIKE THE COWARD YOU ARE!”

Glynda’s eye twitched and Castia knew she was right, but she didn’t even care. She was so mad that she was almost making the walls shake with her Semblance, she felt like she was going to explode.

“I did it because you don’t know how dangerous this life is!” hissed her sister. “You’re still living in a fantasy where you can fix the world if you’re _daring_ enough, but you need to _wake up_! Being a Huntress is hard, and as long as I can delay that I give you more of a childhood, I will do it!

“NO!” roared Castia. “I can take care of myself and you know it! You did it because you’re and control-freak and you can’t handle me being out of you reach! Well NEWS FLASH, you can’t control everything!”

Chairs were vibrating on the floor, crimson light sparking at her fingers: she felt mad, she felt furious, she felt out of control. It was so fucking unfair! It was wrong, _wrong_ , and she had never felt angrier in her entire life!

“You shouldn’t have done it!” she continued furiously. “You shouldn’t have done it and you shouldn’t have LIED ABOUT IT! You had no right! You can’t do that!”

“I can stop you from making stupid and impulsive decisions like a child!” shrieked Glynda.

“I’M NOT A CHILD!” screamed Castia, her voice almost breaking. “I’m not, do you fucking get it?! I can’t relate to kids at school _! I have no friends_! All the people I hang out with are adults and _you’re leaving me behind_! I’m not a child, and I’m FUCKING TIRED of you treating me like one!”

She had been angry the first time Glynda had dismissed her dream, but a different kind of anger, a powerless rage that got her eyes watering and her voice shaking. She had been on the verge on crying and she had felt weak. But right now she didn’t felt weak anymore: sure, she felt tears pricking at her years, but mostly she felt fucking furious, roaring to the point where her throat hurt, so furious she could have chewed nails and spat them boiling in her sister face.

“Just because you are _moping at school_ doesn’t mean you should rush head first into danger!” Glynda yelled. “As long as I have a word in it, you’ll _never_ join Beacon Academy before your majority! Do you have the slightest ideas of what is expecting you?! NONE! You’re completely unprepared!”

“Primary school is not going to prepare more!” roared Castia. “What can’t you get it in your thick skull?! I’M READY! I’m ready and _the only thing you’re doing is slowing me doing like a fucking anchor around my neck, you bitch!_ ”

“CASTIA!”

Castia almost froze, because she had crossed a line and she knew it, but she was too angry, she felt almost unhinged:

“You deserve it!” she screamed. “I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

Then she turned and ran away from the house, like every cliché of a moody teenager in full adolescent-crisis. She barely made it two streets down before bursting into tears. She wandered around the town all evening, refusing to go home. She felt like her anger was a living thing, burning her from the inside out. It was so fucking unfair. Why? Why?!

It wasn’t just the fact that her dreams of going to Beacon were crushed. Oh, yes, it hurt. Failure was like a slap in the face. She had almost never failed at anything before. Now, she felt like she had slammed into a dead-end. She was stuck waiting for the next school year to apply to Beacon, and _she wasn’t even sure that Glynda wouldn’t block her application this time too_. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. But more than failure, it was the _betrayal_ that hurt. _Glynda had done that_. Glynda had done that and lied about it. It was like a punch in the gut. She had never thought her sister could do that to her. Just thinking about it made her want to burst into angry tears again.

She went home late. She was almost mugged on her way (and smashed the mugger face with a vengeance), but finally came back around midnight. Glynda wasn’t there. Her father was. He tried to comfort her, but he had never really understood her insistence to graduate early, or her sister’s reluctance to it. Castia went to bed more depressed than ever.

It was a crap evening. And after that, Castia and Glynda avoided each other. They father couldn’t do much to stop them. He wasn’t home often anyway. He felt a bit lost, but then, he had never fully understood his daughters. So Castia stopped going to Beacon Academy and Glynda stopped coming home. When their father took the time to invite his eldest, his youngest went away.

It was lonely. She didn’t have friends to invite her for a sleepover or even to hang out with. Most of her time, she spent training. Alone. All summer-long. Then it was September, and she went back to school with a bitter taste in her mouth.

She trained more. She had the time. After all, she still went to Central School, but only for combat training and a handful of lessons. She had finished her schooling. Her father hired private tutors so she wouldn’t stagnate, but Castia still had a lot of free time. She was bored and resentful. No one at Central School could keep up with her, except the teachers, and they had to watch over dozens of kids that needed guidance more than her. To pass the time, Castia joined two others sport club. Then she started going to sport competitions. Well, Huntsmen-in-training competition, that were called Combat Tournament. They were regional competition, open to all member of a primary combat school. Castia never had any interest in it before, mostly because she preferred to train solo, and had a bit of stage fright. She loved the rush of the fight, but wasn’t exactly comfortable in front of a crow.

Well, these days, even a sleeping bag full of rats would have been more comfortable than having dinner with her sister. So, why not? She signed up for the Tournaments to try and do something useful with her summer holidays. It passed the time. She entered one, and won. She loved the roar of the crow and the victory, but more than that, she loved the fact that she had to work for it. Here, people were stronger than her classmates. She really had to get her head in the game and focus. It helped with her sadness and her anger, so she signed up for the next Tournament.

She won that one too and signed up for the next one. She trained more. She knitted. She studied poetry and astronomy. She signed up for evening classes: embroidery, painting, sign language, cooking, yoga… She learned to drive, although she was too young to pass her permit. She spent her evenings at home, alone, instead of meeting her sister at Beacon.

That went on for six months.

Castia trained a lot. She had nothing else to do, now. Each month there was a friendly tournament, and each month she won it, like clockwork. Her combat skills, which already were impressive for her young age, improved again. Footages of her fight started going around the Net. When she went back to Central School for combat training, she was the star. She had always loved the admiration, but now, it seemed… So vain. So flavorless. She missed her sister. She was still furious with her, but she missed her.

Still, she never tried to reach her and for six months, they didn’t see each others. They didn’t text; they didn’t ask any news about the others. Radio silence. Each sister was healing her own wounds. Castia was still angry. Glynda probably was, too. And yeah, Castia wasn’t self-absorbed to the point of not knowing she had gone too far. She knew her sister was trying to protect her. She knew Glynda had always disapproved of her intentions to graduate early. She knew she shouldn’t have yelled, and insulted her, and told her she hated her. She didn’t hate her! But gods, she was so angry she felt her stomach _burn_ just at the thought of it. Glynda had treated her like a child. Like an idiot. Like someone who didn’t deserve to be treated with respect for her intelligence or at least her abilities.

“Your sister is sad about this argument too, you know,” her father said hesitantly over dinner one night.

The spark of rage ignited anew.

“Oh, sorry,” Castia hissed. “Did my back hurt her knife?”

Her father winced. He hadn’t taken any side, but in a way, it was worse, because he clearly thought that Glynda had gone too far… But he never defended Castia, who had been wronged. He didn’t want to choose, he said, but refusing to choose when someone was clearly the victim was still choosing the guilty party’s side. It was cowardly. Castia rose sharply from her chair, and went to bed without another word, slamming the door behind her.

Every time she thought of it, it was like a new slap on the face. More than the act itself, it was the secrecy that hurt. It was the secrecy that felt like _betrayal_. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Glynda should have talked to her! Even just to tell her that she was going to oppose her application to the Academy, she should have told her, instead of backstabbing her like that! Sure, they would have disagreed, they would have argued, but they would have been honest! This… It was insulting, and spiteful, and hurtful. Why? Why?! She just couldn’t figure it out. How could her own sister do this, knowing it would hurt her, but still doing it so dismissively?! Didn’t her feelings matter to Glynda?! Her sister knew how important it was for her, but she had crushed her dreams of entering Beacon and didn’t even have the courtesy to tell her. It felt… Yeah, it felt like a betrayal. There was no other word for it.

The worst was… The worst was that Glynda didn’t even regret it. Oh sure, maybe she regretted how bad their argument had gotten. But she hadn’t expressed an ounce of remorse when Castia had confronted her. She hadn’t said she was sorry. She had been so self-righteous, as if Castia being angry was the offending thing in all hat mess!

At least, once she had been past her anger, Castia had understood her sister point of view. She had always understood it. It was a flawed on, sure, but she knew about it. Glynda couldn’t control the danger Castia would be into once she would be a Huntress, but she could delay it. Castia got it. When it came up, she always tried to be upfront about it, she made it clear that she respected her sister feelings but wouldn’t back down from her dreams She didn’t hide. She hadn’t applied to any other Academy behind Glynda’s back. But Glynda… Glynda hadn’t given her the same treatment. Glynda had dismissed her ambitions and crushed them as if it didn’t matter, as if Castia was supposed to get over it, to just shut up and agree with her oh so wise older sister!

It pissed her off. It pissed her off so much. And oh, it hurt. She loved her sister, she admired her, she still saw her as a role-model to emulate… But at the same time, she felt this rejection like a punch in the gut. No matter how hard she would try, Glynda would never take her seriously. She would always treat her like a child. Like someone she loved, but she couldn’t rely on, that she couldn’t trust. So Castia was angry, she was mad… And on top of it, she felt guilty. Even if she had been right, she had yelled horrible things to her sister, things she hadn’t really meant, and she regretted them. She always regretted hurting people. Even if her sister had hurt her first, even if she had just lashed out because of that hurt… Well, Castia had always been soft. She hated arguing with others. The silence, that went on and on for months, made it worst. Each week passing without contact only comforted Castia in her depressing thoughts.

She felt so alone now. She had always thought that… Well, she wasn’t stupid enough to believe she could save the world by herself. But she had thought she could be at her sister’s side and that they would save the world together, fight the same war, support each others as equals. She hadn’t realized that her sister didn’t want it, that her sister refused to accept it. Glynda didn’t need a partner, after all. And if she ever needed one, she wouldn’t think about turning to her younger sister. She wouldn’t want to.

So for six months, Castia was pretty miserable. She as angry, sad, and betrayed. But most of all, she mourned all of her stupid dreams of being at her sister’s side for the war. It was stupid, and unfair, and she had been blind to not see it, but… Those had always been a pipe dream. _Glynda didn’t want her to be there_. It didn’t matter if Castia proved herself (which she had already done, in a way, by completing her schooling early). It didn’t matter if she was strong enough. Glynda would never accept to fight with her. She was seeing it as dragging her baby sister in a bloody war. She couldn’t see that Castia had walked there all by herself, that it was too late to stop her. No, Glynda could only see it as a personal defeat.

There was no way for it to end happily, wasn’t it? Glynda didn’t want her to become involved. Letting Castia become a Huntress was already stretching the limits of her protectiveness. But Castia needed to become _more_ than a simple Huntress. Castia needed to be _involved_. She couldn’t just sit by and watch this world descend in chaos while she knew critical information that could help people. She wanted to help. She was going to help. And Glynda was going to oppose her every step of the way, because she couldn’t bear the thought of letting her risk her life in this war. No matter how she tried to turn the issue in her head, Castia could see no solution. She wasn’t even sure she could become involved if she joined Beacon Academy: Ozpin seemed in favor, but how far would he be willing to go if Glynda opposed him? She was his strongest warrior. He couldn’t alienate her.

Castia slowly went thought all the stages of grief. Denial lasted a few weeks, full of hurts an incredulity. Anger was the longest. It lasted months. Then there was bargaining: she keep thinking about it, mentally trying to fix the problem without any success. Depression hit the hardest. She was finally admitting defeat: there would be no solving this argument, because neither her nor Glynda would ever back down. It was a hard pill to swallow. But then, slowly, came acceptance. Her sister wouldn’t let her fight by her side: so what? Castia could still fight. She could still try and save the world. Not having her sister’s support hurt, but it wasn’t the end of the world. She loved her and wanted her with her, but she didn’t _need_ her. She was on her own. It was a painful lesson to learn, but… Better sooner than later, right?

So Castia healed, slowly. She missed her sister, she as still angry at her, but she didn’t feel like chocking on her rage and he feeling of helplessness anymore.

Right on time, too. Because after six months, her father bought her tickets to see the Vytal Festival.

This year, it was going happen in Atlas. It was very far, especially for someone who had never left the Vale. Castia couldn’t believe it. It was huge. And it was exactly the kind of enormous gift that her father used to give his daughter when he wanted to apologize for not being home enough, or when he wanted to defuse the tension without knowing what to say. But… This time, Castia couldn’t help but see it was more than just an apology gift. It was a show of trust. Her father wasn’t the confrontational kind (unlike Glynda and Castia: they took after their mother that way). He liked showing his favor in a more indirect way. So, those tickets… It was a way to tell Castia that he trusted her to handle herself in Atlas. It was comforting. At least she had Dad’s vote of confidence, while her sister didn’t even believe her capable of entering Beacon Academy in Vale.

So she profusely thanked her dad, and started packing. She didn’t ask if Glynda was coming on behalf of Beacon Academy, or even if she knew her younger sister was going to another continent. She didn’t want to know. Well, actually, she wanted to know, but she tried very hard to not care. Castia didn’t want to feel guilty about sneaking behind her sister back. She wanted to felt angry about their argument, and gleeful at the idea of giving her a taste of her own medicine.

(She had no idea how much this trip to Atlas would change her life, not yet.)

**oOoOoOo**

Castia fell in love with Atlas at first sight.

It was a surprise. She didn’t mean to. She hadn’t expected to. But truth was: she was lonely and sad, and Atlas was all bright towers and endless possibilities. It was almost like the city was begging her to project all of her hopes on it.

She still loved Vale, of course. It was her home, after all. It was beautiful, green and rich, and she loved it. It was just that… She hadn’t expected how much larger than life was the city of Atlas. It wasn’t as big as Vale, but… It was bright and luminous and elegant, all gleaming silver and sparking glass decorations, elegantly dressed people, full of noise and laughter and classical music in the background. It was pretty, it was chic…. And it was a _flying city_ , for gods’ sake! And so elegant, so modern, so different! All the buildings were sleek towers of glass and metal. It looked nothing like Vale. Oh, Vale was fine, with its stocky building of stone and its elegant castles, but it was home, it was comfy and familiar. This was new, dazzling and wonderful. She couldn’t help but look around starry-eyed like a kid in a toy’s store. She loved the ‘medieval town’ aesthetic that Vale had going on, but Atlas looked like it came straight from a good book of futuristic science-fiction.

People were better dressed. The food was different, too. The colors, the clothing, the accent. The weapons, too. In Vale, it wasn’t rare to see armed people on the streets. Here, there were soldiers, but that was it. Everybody else who had a weapon needed to wear a shiny visitor’s pass around their neck to prove they were here for the Festival. Otherwise, armed people weren’t that common around here, apparently. It was mind-blowing. It revealed a deeper truth, one that Castia was almost scared to put into words, as if it could make it disappear… In Atlas, there was less fear in the streets. _People weren’t afraid of being killed_. They were relaxed. Well, there weren’t relaxed _everywhere_ : in Mantle, just below the flying city, the atmosphere was pretty similar to Vale’s. It wasn’t _tense_ , it was just that people were aware of the dangers sitting just outside their city’s wall. In Atlas, people (well, civilians at least) seemed to have forgotten. They were strict and disciplined but they had this air of confidence about them, as if they didn’t know what it was to be prey, and Castia couldn’t help but feel a terrible longing burn in her chest. She wanted that, too.

During her first days in Atlas, she explored every part of the city she could. She felt more alive than in the last few months. She wanted to see everything. Atlas was both new and familiar. There were training grounds everywhere, like tiny arenas where people could book a short period of time to demonstrate their fighting prowess against holograms. Their fights were projected on big screens on the walls of the arenas, allowing the public to cheer on. Technology was so superior here! They didn’t have training hologram back in the Vale. Here, it was different. All of those technological advancements wore the military brand, thought, so maybe it explained why they were everywhere. There were armed guards and a strong military presence, but no feeling of insecurity in the city. There were strange foods and drinks. There were enormous libraries with free access for everyone. There were more Dust shops in a single neighborhood than in the whole city of Vale!

Part of the effervescence in the streets was also due to the Festival. It attracted a lot of visitors, and during her stay, Castia saw several people she recognized. There was a girl she knew from her school, a Faunus with curled black hair and a cat tail. There was a Tournament champion she had fought a handful of times, with arms are large as her tights and a big axe on his back. There was a famous journalist she saw everyday in the evening news, who was talking in front of a camera. There were some Huntsmen that had given class at Central School.

And the day before the start of the Tournament, she bumped into headmaster Ozpin.

She honestly hadn’t expected it, but there he was, with a cup of hot cocoa in his hand, apparently wandering between the stands that had invaded Atlas Academy’s grounds. He was followed by a young woman with brown hair and golden armor. Next to them was an old woman with white hair in a pixie cut, herself followed by a military guy with black hair combed back, standing at parade rest. Suddenly coming nose to nose with them, Castia couldn’t help but freeze like a deer in the headlights.

“Miss Goodwitch the youngest,” Ozpin saluted her, not looking surprised in the least. “It had been a while.”

She narrowed her eyes, regaining her bearings and feeling annoyance flare up. He knew exactly _why_ it had been a while, that old smartass. In the meantime, all of his three companions had perked up at the mention of her name, and were now watching her with interest. Castia seriously considered snipping at Ozpin that if he wanted to badly to see her he shouldn’t have let his secretary sabotage her application, but she wasn’t _that_ insolent. So she swallowed her anger and tersely nodded:

“Professor Ozpin.”

Unfazed by her clipped answer, Ozpin half-turned to introduce her to his companions.

“This is Castia Goodwitch, an incredibly talented Huntress-in-training, and Glynda’s little sister. Miss Goodwitch, I would like you to meet Amber Malt, James Ironwood, and my friend Ellen Quicksilver, the headmistress of Atlas Academy.”

Castia couldn’t help but stare. Holy shit. She should have recognized the armor. Amber Malt was _that Amber_ , the one from the canon story, _the Fall Maiden_. And that was _James Ironwood_?! By the gods, he looked like a completely different person! He didn’t have a single gray hair. Nor a robotic body, apparently: he still had two human hands.

“Very nice to meet you,” the headmistress of Atlas Academy said with a grandmotherly smile. “Are you a student at Beacon, my dear?”

And just like that, the annoyance was back. She forced it down, and managed a weak smile to answer:

“No, professor. I graduated last year but my sister didn’t let me apply.”

Ozpin hummed:

“Oh, yes. Your application had been approved, but Glynda told me that she would quit if I dared to enlist a fifteen-years old. She is extremely determined to only have you at Beacon after your seventeenth birthday.”

Castia tensed, not liking the reminder, but Ozpin wasn’t done and continued casually:

“Of course, I told her that her attitude may push you away from Beacon, which has apparently happened. I followed your tournaments quite closely, Miss Goodwitch, and it’s very impressive. You didn’t lose a single match! You probably have quite a few sponsors already offering you apprenticeship. Unless you are planning on applying to another Academy this year?”

Taken aback, Castia just stared for a second.

She… hadn’t really thought about it. Well she had considered the idea, but it hadn’t been anything serious yet. She had refused any sponsorship, because sponsors often wanted stuff in exchange for their support (a promise for an apprenticeship, media appearances, interviews…) and she didn’t have time for it. But another Academy? It hadn’t really crossed her mind. For so long, Beacon had been her goal. It was the heart of the plot. It was the headquarters of the Ozluminati. It was _Glynda’s school_. How could she want to go elsewhere? Besides, it was Vale’s Academy, and Vale was her home. She hadn’t… Before coming here, she had never left the Vale. She couldn’t imagine going to train in another country. She was a pretty sedentary person.

But now, she was thinking about it. Because… Right now, being in the same school as her sister didn’t have the same appeal. Or never, actually. So, if Beacon was closed to her, what were her options? Well, another Academy, of course. Being on another country than her family could be weird, but she was in Atlas right now, and she already liked this place. Besides, it wouldn’t be forever, and they could still be in touch. Even being on another continent hadn’t stopped Ozpin from having contacts in Mistral or Atlas. Hell, he _needed_ international contacts, right? So being in another Academy wouldn’t stop Castia from being recruited in the Ozluminati if she pushed it. And Ozpin was advertizing her talents right now, in front of Atlas’ headmistress… She suddenly felt lightheaded. It wasn’t a coincidence, wasn’t it? It was a message. It was a push. _He was offering her an in_.

“I’m… I’m thinking about it,” she managed to squeak.

Next to Ozpin, headmistress Quicksilver shifted. There suddenly was an almost calculating glint into the old Huntress’ eyes, and she leaned forward with interest like a big owl watching a mouse. Castia nearly took a step back.

“Oh, really?”

_Come on, Castia, pull yourself together_ , she scolded herself. She squared her shoulders and looked the headmistress in the eyes, trying to not let her nervousness show.

“Yes. I don’t really feel like waiting another year to be accepted in Beacon. It’s not because my sister went here that I have to follow in her footsteps.”

“Are you considering applying to Atlas Academy?”

Well that was direct. Castia blinked and nodded. Suddenly, headmistress Quicksilver’s smile grew a bit sharper. Castia couldn’t help but feel a bit like a rabbit facing down a big, grinning fox. Amber, Ironwood and even Ozpin were watching the scene unfolding with way too much interest. 

“What a great idea!” exclaimed headmistress Quicksilver with an almost predatory look. “Promising applicants are always welcome. Would you mind giving us a short demonstration?”

“Er…”

“Perfect. James, would you be so kind as to book the next round in this hologramic training ground?”

She indicated one of those closed arena-thingy where people could fight holograms, and Ironwood immediately went there. Castia’s eyes widened when she understood what exactly she intended to do, but it was too late already. Quicksilver put a friendly hand on her shoulder, going back to her grandmotherly persona so fast that Castia almost got whiplash, and cheerfully dragged her towards the arena. She was surprisingly strong for an old lady. When the young Goodwitch threw a frantic look at Ozpin, he just slipped from his cocoa cup while Amber sniggered in the background. Before she had even realized in what she had gotten herself into, Castia was pushed into the arena proper. It was circular pitch, with smooth black floor (some kind of hard ceramic, maybe) and thick transparent walls curving above her to form a closed dome. Her image was immediately projected on the big screens and she froze. James Ironwood, who was leaving the place after booking her match, threw her a sympathetic glance.

“She does that to almost all the applicants she met,” he tried to reassure her. “A good third of them pass the test.”

“That’s not very reassuring!” she whispered furiously. “What’s the test?”

Ironwood was spared the task of answering her when the referee (or, well, the guy commenting and making sure things didn’t go too much out of control) announced gleefully:

“OOOOH, THAT’S A GOOD ONE! CASTIA GOODWITCH, A YOUNG HUNTRESS-IN-TRAINING FROM VALE, IS HERE TO PROVE HELSELF! SHE HAS CHOSEN ‘ _THE RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK’_ AT ITS HARDEST LEVEL! SHE MUST ELIMINATE THE HOLOGRAPHICS GRIMMS AND BANDITS TO SCORE POINTS, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, GET THE TROPHY BEFORE THE END OF THE FIVE-MINUTE COUNT-DOWN! THE LONGER SHE TAKE TO WIN, THE MORE POINT WILL BE DEDUCTED FROM HER TOTAL! ARE YOU READY?’

“Can you reschedule if I say _no_?” Castia muttered nervously, too low for the referee to hear.

“GO!”

The walls darkened to black just as the holograms started coming to life, rising from the floor in a swirl of light. They weren’t realistic: they were angular silhouettes that disintegrated when hit once, but they got the job done. They were huge, they moved fluidly and convincingly, but most of all they were _fast_. Castia barely had the time to see where the trophy was (on the other side of the arena, of course) before having to doge the first attack from a holographic Beowolf.

She scowled. They wanted a show? She would give them a show. She grabbed her Twin Twilight and threw herself into the fray.

An explosive glyph-shield propelled her in the air, where she shot two Beowolves before turning toward the red humanoid hologram representing bandits, shooting the one reaching for the trophy and using her Semblance to create a massive shockwave that bowled over the rest of his group. Jump, punch, roll behind another Boewolf and shoot it in the head before he could turn, avoid another bunch of bandit, pushed them with Telekinesis so they would crash into the Beowolf… Castia grinned and started making her way toward the trophy, bulldozing through all the obstacles that appeared in front of her. She punched, pushed, riposted, jumped on glyphs, exploded them, slingshot herself in the sky to rain gunfire on her enemies. Suddenly the count-down didn’t matter, impressing headmistress Quicksilver didn’t matter, Atlas Academy didn’t matter: it was only her and the fight. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t a real fight, that holograms couldn’t get her heart pumping and her adrenaline spiking like real opponents. In fact, it was even better because right here, right now, there was no high stake, it wasn’t life or death, nobody could get hurt. It was just her and the challenge, and she met it head on. 

Another exploding glyph threw her to the side, avoiding another Grimm, then another: they were suddenly too much for her to shot. She crushed the closest one with her Telekinesis while engaging the transformation mechanism of her Twin Twilight. The handle shifted, the canon moved, the retractable blade unfolded in a flash, and suddenly she was holding two wide double-edged swords. In a whirlwind of steel, she tore into pieces her nearest enemies, Grimm and bandits alike: then she used another exploding glyph-shield to catapult herself in the air, and did it again, and again. With her guns, she was deadly but not a marksman, because precision had never been her thing… So she loved her swords better. She could duel, she could be precise, but she didn’t _need_ too. Twin Twilight was a flurry of steel, and Castia herself moved like a shot, slamming into her enemies like a freight train. It had some beauty to it, all that speed and unstoppable force changing direction in a flash: but most of all, it was a slaughter.

Castia had often drawn comparison of her life with her memories of old manga and anime she had liker in her previous existence. For example, her exploding glyph-shields propelling her into the air were inspired by Bakugo Katsuki (a manga character with powers of explosion). But the way she used her blades, the way she fought while moving in the air, like a whirlwind of sharp blades almost too fast to see? Well, that was some _Attack on Titans_ shit that even the mangaka would have been proud of.

In the span of a few heartbeat, she had cut down every hologram standing in her way and had landed near the trophy, skidding on the ceramic floor. She extended her arm to take the glowing hologram of a golden cup, then stopped. Wait, she was here to impress the headmistress. She could do them one better.

Her back to the trophy, she turned toward the rest of the arena. New Grimm and bandits were spanning, rushing towards her with the surviving ones. She raised one of her swords, the same way Glynda raised The Disciplinarian to aim, focused her Semblance… And pushed.

In a flash of purple light, a gigantic shockwave _exploded_ in the arena, pulverizing every single hologram still standing. The dark Plexiglas walls shook. One of them almost cracked. Dust flew everywhere. Only the trophy, behind her, was sparred.

There was a beat.

Castia waited two seconds. No other Grimm appeared. Satisfied, she turned, and took the handles of the trophy. Immediately, it dissolved in golden spark, while the big count-down displayed on the walls stopped. Her score, in slightly smaller number, also stopped glowing. It was in the thousands: she had never seen a score so high in all the matches she had watched during the previous day. Then, when the Plexiglas walls gradually lost their darkness and the cheering crowd appeared… And suddenly Castia realized _how many people_ had watched that fight.

“AMAZING!” was roaring the referee. “IN ONLY THREE MINUTES AND FIFTY-SEVEN SECONDS, CASTIA GOODWITCH HAS MANAGED TO ELIMINATE EVERY SINGLE ENEMY AND TAKE THE TROPHY! WITHOUT SUSTAINING ANY DAMAGE HERSELF! INCREDIBLE! NOT THE FASTEST VICTORY EVER SEEN, BUT WITHOUT A DOUBT ONE OF _THE HIGHEST SCORE_ _EVER RECORDED_! CONGRATULATIONS TO CASTIA GOODWITCH, WINNER OF THIS MATCH!”

People were cheering loudly, clapping, even whistling. Castia bowled shallowly, a bit uncomfortable, and hastily left the arena. Several people outside clapped her on the back and congratulated her. She thanked them awkwardly, and was grateful to escape behind the large stature of James Ironwood who was waiting for her near the entrance. He seemed a bit rattled by the devastation left in her wake. Two people wearing maintenance uniforms were examining the Plexiglas wall her last attack had lightly fissured. But to his credit, Ironwood only guided her towards where Ozpin and Quicksilver were waiting.

“Excellent!” exclaimed Quicksilver, delighted. “I’m stealing this one, Oz. Too bad for you! Keep your bossy and cantankerous Goodwitch, this one is mine!”

Ozpin looked completely unfazed:

“I’m telling Glynda you said that.”

“Bah! It’ll do her good to be the second choice of someone, for once. And you,” she suddenly turned towards Castia, almost giddy, “you’re hired!”

“I am?” Castia repeated, a bit bewildered. “Don’t you mean accepted?”

Quicksilver chuckled, going back to her grandmotherly smile and kind eyes in the blink of the eyes. Castia suddenly wondered if Atlas’ headmistress wasn’t bipolar or something.

“Semantics, semantics. Well… Welcome in advance to Atlas Academy! Come on, Ozpin is going to buy us a coffee to celebrate. Yes, you are, you grumpy old man. Show some gallantry, for gods’ sake!”

**oOoOoOo**

Castia didn’t really know where to go until the beginning of the tournament. So, for want of anything better, she stuck with the two headmasters and their respective bodyguards… Mostly because seeing the old headmistress bully Ozpin was very funny. For an old woman, Quicksilver was incredibly energetic. She swung wildly between her friendly and harmless grandmotherly persona and some kind of creepily perceptive behavior with a razor-sharp edge. In any case, she was chatty and very dynamic. It was a pain and a half to get her to pay attention to anything that didn’t immediately caught her interest. Only Ozpin seemed to manage it. She listened to him… Even if she bossed him around at every occasion.

She bossed around every single person she talked to, actually. So Castia wisely hung back with James Ironwood and Amber Malt, because as bodyguard, they were a bit ignored by their respective bosses. Both of them were friendly enough. Amber was kind and funny, but she was also a bit wild: she laughed loudly, she liked stupid jokes, she drank beer like it was water, and she flirted with pretty women as if there was no tomorrow. Castia was a bit overwhelmed by her rowdy personality, but she loved it. The canon-story had never talked about Amber, besides showing her attack at the hands of Cinder and her crew. Amber then appeared like someone soft and compassionate, but nothing was said about her personality. It was a shame, really. Apparently Amber was a very polite and friendly person, but she frequently butted heads with authority figures and preferred being on her own. She was mostly disinterested in the Festival. She told Castia that she was Ozpin’s bodyguard because she owned him one, but that she hated staying too long in the same place, and that following the headmaster around was boring her out of her skull.

“You’re the most interesting thing that had happened since I got here,” she confided in Castia. “I mean, Quicksilver is entertaining to watch, that old hag…”

Ironwood frowned disapprovingly, but Amber made a show of ignoring him:

“… But seriously, it’s all talk and no action. I can’t wait for the tournament to start. Seeing teenagers beat each other stupid is the highlight of this dumb festival.”

“Why don’t you enter one of those arena-things?” Castia asked, a bit hesitantly. “I didn’t like being thrown in there by surprise, but it was fun, at the end.”

Amber cringed.

“Yeah, I’ll pass. I’m not one for the spotlight. Besides, Ozpin will have my hide if I put on a show while I’m supposed to play bodyguard. Anyway, talking about putting on a show! That was pretty great, what you did back there. Did you sister train you?”

Castia tensed, but Amber didn’t even notice, talking excitingly:

“I only had Glynda has a teacher for a year, since I graduated last spring, but gods it was something. She was such a hardass about discipline! Is she like that at home too? I bet she is. Hey, you can probably tell me some embarrassing stories about her!”

Castia stammered, not knowing how to tell Amber exactly how bad her relationship with her sister actually was (and feeling a bit ashamed about it). Thankfully, James Ironwood interceded:

“Let her breathe, Amber. Besides, Glynda wouldn’t like it if she learned that you went behind her back to get information about her private life.”

“Killjoy,” muttered Amber. “You just say that because you have a big fat crush on her, Ironwood.”

Castia actually stopped walking to look incredulously at Ironwood. He hadn’t reacted, but the tips of his ears were now bright pink. Holy crap, was that true?

“I do _not_ ,” he scowled at Amber before turning towards Castia, looking apologetic. “Don’t listen to her. Although I am sure your Semblance required an extensive training, I’ll admit I am more interested in your weapons. I use dual pistols myself.”

Castia still looked at him a bit suspiciously, but talking about her weapon was much less of a minefield than talking about her sister. Besides, she was very proud of her Twin Twilight, and she couldn’t help but brighten a bit.

“I’m more comfortable with the dual blades,” she admitted. “I’m better with them.”

“I noticed,” he smiled.

Castia puffed up, a bit flattered. Just like that, she felt more at ease.

“I still love the gun part of Twin Twilight”, she said. “A gun is better for precision work anyway. What kind of firearms do you use?”

She was easily drawn into a conversation about weapons with the future general, with Amber piping up every minute or so to give her opinion. Castia was surprised to learn that Ironwood was also very good company. Sure, he was much more restrained and professional than Amber (which he didn’t seem to like much, politely ignoring her when he could), but that wasn’t a bad thing. Castia liked Amber’s spontaneity and brash personality, but she was still a stranger, and sometimes it could be a bit overwhelming. James Ironwood was more sensitive than the Fall Maiden. He knew when Castia was becoming uncomfortable with Amber’s prodding questions and swiftly provided a diversion, for example. He was friendly, too, which Castia hadn’t expected. Sure, she knew than in canon, he was one of the most human characters of the show: after all, in Volume 7, he had gone dark because of his terrible human weaknesses that had spiraling into paranoia, PTSD and fear of betrayal. But she had mostly remembered him as ‘ _that one military guy who got way too much power into his hands_ ’ so she had forgotten how he was. And, well, young James Ironwood was _nice_. He insisted she called him James because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable (since she already called Amber by her name). He was kind and attentive, especially considering that he was keeping an eye on Quicksilver at the same time and could have easily used that as an excuse to tell Castia to get lost. But no, he really paid attention to their conversation. And he was very nice to talk to! Sure, he was a bit arrogant, a bit authoritative, but he was never aggressive about it. He kept his cool. He listened to what Castia had to say, even though she was just a teenager and himself was an adult with a real job who could easily dismiss her. No, he took her seriously.

And they had a lot to talk about! He was a gun nerd, like her. He was ambitious and passionate about his plans for the future. He wanted to change the world for the better and wasn’t shy about it. He liked mechanics and robotics. He also was passionate about astronomy, which was amazing because Castia had never met anyone who shared her interest for the stars.

Space exploration had never really taken off in the world of Remnant. Dust lost power the more distant it became of the ground. Humanity had to focus on the earth, where power and danger both came from. But Castia was pretty fired up about space, and the reason was simple: _communication satellites_. She knew that the cross continental transmit system (or CCT for short) was going to collapse in the coming years. Sure, for now the CCT towers were secure, but they were _on Earth_. _Where the Grimm were_. It would be smarter to put them into space. It had been Ironwood’s plan in the canon-story, and it was good one. Seriously, having a satellite would have saved them so much trouble…

“The biggest problem would be the launch,” Ironwood pointed. “We have the technology to make this artificial satellite work with only solar energy…”

Atlas had solar panels. Of course. The kingdom was still reliant on Dust (and something told her that the Schnee had something to do with it) but it had clean energy already! Castia mentally added another tally to her column ‘ _reasons to move to Atlas’_.

“… But there is no way we can take several tons of machinery in the air with solar energy,” Ironwood continued. “Since Dust will fail after reaching thirty kilometers high, we need an alternative power source. There is still at least fifty kilometers left to cross, and the satellite must be flying with sufficient velocity to continue its course until reaching the desired orbit…”

“Well I can throw stuff about two kilometers high with my Semblance,” Castia thought out loud. “But if I was thirty kilometers in the air, gravity would be weaker, and there would be less resistance from the air…”

“You want to launch a satellite yourself?!” Amber laughed.

“Not necessarily myself!” Castia defended herself. “But there are ton of people with useful Semblance out there. There may be a guy who can cancel gravity on an object, for example. Or someone like me who can make things fly, minus the explosive force. Anyway, if those people can get in the air, and if we can find a way to bring them back down safely… Well, they can be our satellites launchers.”

“Smart,” Ironwood said thoughtfully. “When Dust fails, there is still the oldest way to do thing: with human strength only. But it’s more dangerous… We wouldn’t risk an expensive machine, but human lives. It’s probably for that reason that nobody has really considered the idea.”

“Then we just have to be more careful, right?” Castia tried.

Amber snorted, looking amused:

“Oh, I like your optimism,” she teased. “There is no way people are going to be alright with launching others people into space on a hunch, you know! Right, James?”

But there was calculative glint in Ironwood eyes, and instead of agreeing with Amber, he just said noncommittally:

“I will submit the idea to Atlas’ Air Force Department.”

Amber guffawed, not taking it seriously. Castia wisely decided to not push her luck. Hey, if she made _a future general_ consider the idea of launching a satellite into space, it was already a big deal. No need to ruin it by insisting to loudly and drawing Amber’s derision. She didn’t want Ironwood to start second guessing this idea.

Anyway. They talked about their weapons, about their jobs (Amber had just graduated, but Ironwood was a captain in Atlas military as well as the ‘military liaison of Atlas Academy’, which was a thing apparently), about their hobbies. Amber hopefully proposed they sneak out to spar, but Ironwood shoot her down immediately. They kept following the two headmasters of their respective Academies, although they probably didn’t need much protection. But after a while, they had to go to their separate way. The day was over; everyone was going home for a good night of rest before the day of the tournament.

Castia was a bit afraid of never seeing them again. After all, they had spent a good time together… And most of all, they would be very useful contacts in the future. The Fall Maiden and the head of Atlas military! For fuck’ sake, if she kept in touch they would be great allies. She could save Amber from Cinder! She could warn Ironwood about Salem’s traps! She could turn the Plot on its head… Well, not too much, hopefully.

Castia was very aware that this world wasn’t kind. It wasn’t the sort of universe were everything was going to be alright. Terrible things happened constantly, everywhere. If she changed the Plot too much, there was a high probability that terrible things would happen instead of good ones. Oh, sure, she could try to make good things happen instead, but… The world of Remnant had some predisposition for fucking humanity over. She didn’t really want to take any chance. For example, what if she taught Jaune Arc how to fight? It was a good thing. But what if it jeopardized the events of the series? For example, he would recognize Pyrrha, stopping her from befriending him. Or he would just do better during his Initiation Test and be placed with a different team. What if it caused the death of others people during Initiation? What if the ricochets provoked by this tiny detail caused terrible ripples, like…. For example… Pyrrha leaving Beacon or refusing to be the next Fall Maiden, and Yang being picked as the next candidate (because she was the second strongest of the class) and then _dying_?

So Castia had to be careful. Do her best, sure, but not change too much, not too early. Still, giving Ironwood the idea of a satellite had been a good one. She hadn’t thought she would start there but hey, they had started talking about space and stars, it was obviously going to come up. She knew herself enough to know she couldn’t keep her mouth shut about stuff she was passionate about.

She still wanted to keep in touch with them, thought, and not just to know where this idea was going to go, or because they would be useful allies. She liked them. She liked Amber’s spontaneity and brash attitude. She liked Ironwood’s kindness and intellect. She was a lonely teenager who only hung out with adults and was often dismissed by them, so it had been refreshing to be taken seriously. So she mustered all of her courage, and asked for their scrolls’ numbers.

“Bold,” Amber winked at her. “I like it.”

Castia stuttered helplessly, but the Fall Maiden just laughed with amusement before giving her number. Ironwood followed without Castia needing to ask him.

“Isn’t she a bit young for you?” Amber teased him. “Well, I guess you do like blondes, after all. Glynda will be jealous.”

“Alright”, Castia said cautiously. “I really do have to ask, is there anything between you and…”

“No,” quickly interrupted Ironwood, whose ears were bright red. “I invited her to dance once at a party last year, that’s all.”

Amber leaned toward Castia and whispered conspiratorially:

“He was very charming toward her.”

“I’m charming toward everyone!” Ironwood riposted, looking a bit miffed.

Well, he had a point. He was nice, and patient, and had a good deal of humor under that stern exterior. Even when annoyed at Amber, his back was still ramrod straight and he didn’t raise his voice, always the dignified soldier. Still, seeing him all picked up by Amber’s childish taunts was funny, and Castia giggled.

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to give you the shovel talk then,” she tried to say with a straight face (to no avail).

Ironwood snorted, amused in spite of himself.

“That would have been terrific, I am sure.”

Someone called his name, and they turned. Quicksilver was looking at him impatiently, ready to leave (probably because Ozpin was being his annoying self right next to her), and he quickly turned toward Castia make his goodbyes.

“Well. In any case, it had been a pleasure meeting you. I guess I will see you at the next start of the school, in September.”

“And I guess I will see you whenever,” Amber added cheerfully. “Good luck in Atlas, little Goodwitch! I hope your blow their minds!”

“I’ll do my best!” Castia almost saluted, grinning like a loon.

She waved her goodbye and left, each following their master. Castia stayed alone, but she hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.

What a day! She had met the headmistress of Atlas’ Academy, had been accepted into Atlas’ Academy, had met future general James Ironwood and the current Fall Maiden, and had _made friends with them_! New friends! It was so rare these days. She could barely remember when she had made a new friend. People at her primary combat school were friendly enough but they weren’t close. But today, she had talked about things that really interest her! She had talked about space and satellite! About her weapon! About stuff she cared about! And they had _listened_ , and answered, and shared with her stuff _they_ cared about too! Wow! She couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot! It had been so long since she had fun like that! It had been… Well, more than six months, at any rate.

Her only friend had been Glynda, and they weren’t talking. Of course she had been lonely. Of course she would desperately grab any overture of friendship. She knew that. She also knew that in a few days, in a few months maybe, it would probably blow off. Ironwood and Amber most likely would have better things to do, or maybe _Castia_ would have better things to do (since she would be at _Atlas Academy_ , training to be a Huntress, and wasn’t that a head-trip?!) and they would lose touch. Shit, they were both way older than her! Every single adult Castia knew pushed her back because she was a stupid kid in their eyes. Most students at Beacon had never deigned talking to her even once because she was a pipsqueak (yes, looking at you, Team STRQ). It was the major drawback of having grown up too fast: not having any friends her own age. She hoped it could change once in Atlas Academy, but in the meantime… Yeah, it was lonely.

But now she had friends. Maybe they had pitied her, this awkward teenager who had picked the interest of both Ozpin and Quicksilver and didn’t have anything better to do with her time than to follow them around. Castia knew it wasn’t her incredible charisma that had started the conversation. But the end result was the same, in the end. They had talked, they had listened, and now she had their Scroll numbers. She wasn’t going to make friendship bracelets just yet, but that was promising first step, right?!

So. That is how her trip to Atlas changed her life.

Of course, the rest of the Vytal Festival was interesting. She started texting Amber and Ironwood (well, James, as he had insisted she call him) almost right away. She felt terrified of committing some social faux-pas, of coming as to eager or being too awkward, but she had always believed into facing your fears. She started very carefully. To Ironwood, she sent a quick promise to look up some Dust-bullets that he had recommended her. He replied quickly, and soon they had picked up their conversation about weapons where they had left it. To Amber, Castia started by sending a shy hello… But before long, the exuberant Maiden was sending her silly memes or video clip of songs she ‘absolutely’ had to listen to. The conversation was easy and light, and quickly Castia lost her fear of being awkward or too weird. Online, it was easier to relax.

Anyway. She didn’t spent the whole Festival texting (although it did occupy a good deal of her time, especially when her two friends were feeling bored with their bodyguard duty, which happened a lot in Amber’s case). She shopped, she explored, she marveled, she danced. She didn’t enter another hologram-arena-thingy, but it was a close thing. Without the pressure of the two headmasters watching, it was a bit tempting… She had to admit, she had fun back there. But still, better to not tempt fate. What if she cracked the arena’s walls the next time? Or what if she made a poor score and that Quicksilver heard about it and withdraw her offer? Yeah, she wasn’t taking any chance. Besides, there was plenty others ways to enjoy herself!

The Tournament was the highlight of the Festival and, of course, she had a seat in the front row. The Tournament wasn’t as stunning as in her memories, but it was probably because in her memories Glynda had spectacularly wiped the floor with her adversaries while now the matches were more equal. But still, it was fun to watch. She loved the team versus team part, and of course the one on one part was the climax of the thing, but what she preferred was the two versus two matches. It was so intense! It was also easier to see strategies and teamwork. When there were eight people in the arena, things got confusing quickly. With only four, it was more straightforward… Without being _too_ straightforward, like the one on one matches that didn’t allow much strategy.

It made sense, actually. Huntsmen and Huntress worked with partners. Sure, they were in team of four people, but before that, they had one, singular partner. They worked as pair and those pairs were combined in a team. In a fight, sometimes, being too many people could be difficult. Fighting in pair was the best strategy.

In a corner of her mind, Castia wondered what kind of partner she would end up with. She had… never really allowed herself to think about it. Her whole life, she had thought she would be her sister’s partner. Glynda and Castia Goodwitch, both unstoppable masters of Telekinesis. But it had been a pipe dream. Glynda would never see her baby sister as an equal, because she would always saw her as someone to protect. Besides, schooling at a Hunting Academy lasted three to four years. Castia would obviously have had a partner from her own class, of her own age. She had been naïve to think otherwise.

But now… Well. She couldn’t help but wonder. She would have a partner. She would have a _team_. She would have a _team in Atlas Academy_ , far away from Glynda. How would that be? She was excited, but also terribly nervous. Well, in any case, it was too late to back down now. She had Quicksilver’s approval and owned Ozpin big time for his intersession. Both were powerful people. She couldn’t very well spit their offer back into their face, right?

So she buried her worries in a far corner of her mind. It was a problem for later. Well, it wasn’t even much of a problem. More of a totally reasonable stress source. Getting in a new school and moving to another continent was a totally valid reason to be a bit anxious. But she didn’t have to be anxious right now. She had a tournament to enjoy!

And boy did she enjoy it. Sure, nobody could compare to the sheer power that Glynda had demonstrated in the last Vytal Festival that Castia had watched. But it was still great. There were explosions, fires, last minutes plot-twist, spectacular stunts… And she actually recognized several characters of the canon-story! In the fourth year students, there was Vine Zeki, who could generate Aura vines from his arms and legs, essentially extending the length of his limbs. And there was a team of second years, Team RFLE (pronounced “ _rifle_ ”), where she recognized Robyn Hill at her pale blonde hair and green outfit. One of her teammate was a cute sheep-Faunus, named Fiona or something, that Castia was almost sure was going to be one of her Happy Huntresses. And she could have sworn that the only guy of their team, a guy with brown hair and using a big hook as a weapon, was Clover Ebi, future Ace Operative… Talk about a dream team!

The winner of the Tournament wasn’t a canon character, sadly. It was guy named Lionel Greenleaf, a tall young man with tanned skin and dark brown hair like a lion’s mane, who was grinning from ears to ears. He was a third year student. In his team, there were two girls that could maybe be Robyn’s others Happy Huntresses, but Castia wasn’t sure… Well. When she would get to Atlas, she could investigate.

In the meantime, she just had to prepare for it… And find a way to tell her family that she was going to leave the country in a few months.

She wasn’t worried about her dad. He would fret a little, because she was young and Atlas was far, but not too much. After all, he had always believed into letting his daughters be independent. He had never been overly protective… Not, it was Glynda who was the overprotective one. And Castia was already dreading the moment where her sister would learn that she had failed to stop her from entering a Hunting Academy. She was going to blow a fuse.

Well. Payback is a bitch, sis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellen Quicksilver is an OC modeled on the Snow Queen from Andersen's fairy tale.
> 
> The canon doesn't give Amber a family name, so I made one up : Malt, like the cereal. I also gave her a personnality beside "smiling, pretty, and killed quickly". Because, well, she deverves to be more than that! And i liked making her more brash and tomboyish. I headcanon her as pretty similar to Yang.
> 
> So.... Family drama, yeah. Castia is unusually self-aware for a teenager, especially about how Glynda didn't mean to hurt her and think herself to be justified. Still, Castia is young and emotional, so... screaming matches happen and bitterness linger. What can you do ? 
> 
> Also Castia is badass ! And before anyone scream "mary-sue", I'll remind you : Ruby. Yang. Blake. They're a thing. I'm not interested into writing a slow power-crawl from underdog to hero, I'm more interested by personnal relationships, conflicts, worldbuilding, political stakes. So Castia starts as powerful straight from the begining, like Pyrrha or maybe Nora, instead of being inexperienced like Weiss or straight-up weak like Jaune.  
> Anyway ! She is finally meeting others canon characters ! I'm so proud ! James Ironwood is one of my favorite (right behind Yang actually) so I really enjoyed writing him. He will appear pretty often from now on !


	4. Aiming for the top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and kudos ! =) Life is CRAZY right now, especially at work. I forgot to post this chapter last week, sorry, but i was overwhelmed by real-life stuff. Deadline. Exams. Paperwork. Being an adult sucks so much.
> 
> Anyway ! Fair warning first : **I now that Volume 8 is out, but i didn't watch it and i don't intend to**. This fic is kind of my fix-it for Volume 7, and the writing of the show is getting worse and worse... Or maybe it's just because my faves are slowly losing their core personnality. Anyway ! please, don't spoil me for Volume 8, and don't expect me to know canon stuff revealed in this new season =)
> 
> Now, for the main event... Here it is : the next chapter ! The life of Castia Goodwitch, age sixteen. Welcome to Atlas, Castia !
> 
> Young Ironwodd is so freaking funny to write =)

Since announcing right away to her sister that she had been accepted into Atlas Academy would be _suicidal_ , and that Castia wasn’t a _total moron_ , she kept mum and didn’t talk about Quicksilver when she went home. Well, not to Glynda, anyway. She excitedly told her father about the city, the fights, the holograms, the tournament, and even about her newfound friends, James Ironwood and Amber Malt. She implied she wanted to go back, and maybe live there, but was careful to not incriminate herself. To her sister, she didn’t say anything. They still weren’t speaking. Well, Dad was probably more perceptive that Castia thought he was, because he had somehow guessed that his youngest daughter had calmed down a bit. He started having Glynda coming over more frequently. It still wasn’t often (Glynda was married to her work), but it was often enough that evading every family dinner would have been too much work.

So Castia was cold and tight-lipped, but she still had dinner with her father and her sister. She barely spoke, but at least she didn’t glare daggers at Glynda’s back or flat out ignore her the whole time. Both her father and her sister looked relieved.

Make no mistake, Castia was still angry. But… She was tired of being angry, too. She hadn’t forgiven her sister, but she had better things to do with her time that brooding. Besides, she still loved Glynda. Yes, you could love someone and still be completely mad at them, but it was harder to stay mad at them for a long time. It had already been months. Castia had never stayed pissed at someone for such a long time even in her old life. And… Glynda was making it hard to stay mad at her. Oh, no she hadn’t apologized or anything like that (Glynda still didn’t think she had done anything wrong, and reminding herself of that simple fact was always enough for Castia to reignite her anger), but… She felt bad about their estrangement. They cared about each other. Glynda was walking on eggshells around Castia, but she always went the extra miles to show her love. She took time off to have dinner at home. She offered to help her with Telekinesis. She bought her stuff. She paid attention to her outfit or her haircut, and awkwardly complimented her every chance she got. She started watching tournaments so she could know about the contestants and talk about it with Castia. She cared. She had always cared.

“Want to train together?” Glynda offered.

Once, Castia would have been overjoyed to be asked to train with her big sister. Now, thought, she just shrugged, affecting casualness.

“Sure. What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing too hard,” Glynda said cautiously. “Long range precision attack, if you’re up to it.”

Glynda always banked on precision attacks: tiny, controlled outburst of Telekinesis, deadly in her hands but basically useless in Castia’s. For the younger Goodwitch, it was control exercise, not a real work out. A bonding time between sisters, not a productive training session. But… It had always been that way, wasn’t it? After more than ten years training to be a Huntress, Castia realized that not once her sister had offered to train her with hand-to-hand combat, or even with short-range attacks that were _Castia’s_ specialty.

“Why not a fight?” Castia impulsively asked, raising Twin Twilight and unfolding the blades. “It could be fun! No firearms, no explosions, just blades and Telekinesis.”

Glynda barely hesitated a second:

“Ha, I don’t want to do something strenuous, I have to work soon…”

“You could beat me without a sweat, you’re the greatest Huntress of Vale,” Castia replied with a dismissive gesture. “Come on, it will be fun!”

“I would rather do long range attacks,” Glynda insisted stiffly. “Fighting in close combat is too messy for my tastes.”

Castia capitulated, not really hiding her disappointment. Still, she prodded one last time, maybe with a hint of irritability:

“Why are we always doing things you like, not things that I like?”

“It’s a way to spend time together, not a way to trash each other,” Glynda protested. “Really, you’re so violent sometime…”

Well, yeah. But she had a violent combat style. It was her way of fighting. Glynda knew it. Why did she pretend to ignore it? She had always done that. She kept her distance like she didn’t want any part into Castia’s training!

Which as probably exactly the issue here, Castia realized. Glynda had never wanted to have a hand into Castia’s training, _at all_. She hadn’t discouraged her from going to Central primary combat school, and she had helped her with her homework, and she had cared for her: but Glynda had always sternly refused to engage into anything that could be considered as encouraging her aggressiveness. She had never helped her train Telekinesis to hurt people. She had always teased her about her chosen sports. She had refused to fence with her, when Castia still learned the sword. It wasn’t a way to be dismissive, no, it was like… She wanted to distance herself from this part of Castia’s life.

She probably thought that, that way, she wasn’t a part of what was sending her sister to war. But the truth was that she was just letting Castia down, like she had been letting her down for years by withholding tools from her as if it could stop her from fighting. It wouldn’t stop her from fighting, why couldn’t Glynda get that? It just meant that Castia got used to do things on her own. Gods, she thought back about her training and she had always been on her own. Glynda had taught her precision and control, pretty tricks and cute Semblance manipulations, but nothing useful. Well, it was useful, but it was nothing of use for a Huntress.

Glynda hadn’t barred her from being a Huntress. She couldn’t have. Even with the huge blind spot she had, she would have seen the sheer hypocrisy of it. But she wanted Castia out of the way. She wanted her _average_ , and stuck in the city, and never exposed to dangerous Grimm or to Salem’s scheme. She wanted her _safe_. That was why she had sabotaged her application to Beacon Academy, Castia got that, but… The problem was that Glynda had never considered that it wasn’t her decision to make.

So their relationship had been irreparably damaged and all of that for nothing, because Castia was still going to be graduating early, was still going to be a Huntress, and was still going to dive headfirst into the war against Salem. It had a bitter taste to it, hadn’t it?

So Castia and Glynda trained, sometimes, without training at all. They were polite and sometime even cordial, with an edge of coldness in all of their conversation. They tiptoed around each other, taking care of not bringing up explosive subjects. Sometimes Glynda tried to get back to their old complicity, by loaning Castia a book from Beacon’s library or by asking her about her competitors in the next tournaments, but her little sister never fell for it. She smiled, she talked, but never opened up. Some part of Castia wanted to forgive her. To let her in, to tease her about Ironwood, to forget everything, to go back to their old complicity. But she couldn’t. She could forgive her, and she probably would, in time, but… She couldn’t forget. It had hurt too much, too deep, she had been too unprepared. She wouldn’t be unprepared anymore, now. She had to keep her walls up.

Thankfully, she had friends now! Well, long-distance friends. Online friends. People that were friendly enough and that she talked to for hours because she had nobody else to harass. Whatever. Ironwood worked all day, and wasn’t very available, but he dutifully answered all of her text message every evening. Castia sent him pestering questions about guns, blades, weapons in general, Atlas, the government, the military, the Huntsmen, the Academy, the evening news. This guy was a walking encyclopedia. Besides, he couldn’t help but do a running commentary of any subject he explained, and some things (like his ramblings about some pompous guy on the Council) were hilarious. Every now and then, when they were online at the same time, they had time to chat face to face. It was fun. Castia didn’t tease Ironwood like Amber, but she couldn’t help but banter. Especially about the military, because Ironwood alternated between complaining about his job and praising it to the high heaven. It was a wild ride.

“One day I will find a way for Councilman Hughes to insert his head into his own ass,” he promised darkly on a semi-weekly basis. “The world will thank me for it.”

Castia personally thought that poor Ironwood was surrounded by too many stupid people and needed to go out more, or else he wouldn’t vent his frustration with the country’s politicians to a sixteen years old teenager. He had been promoted from captain to commander last week and all that changed was the height of the pile of paperwork he had to do, apparently.

“Promises, promises!” she laughed, sitting on the roof with her Scroll set next to her. “Why did you see him anyway? Aren’t you just a commander or something?”

“She said ‘ _just’_ ”, muttered Ironwood before clearing his throat. “Well, as a commander, I am quite high-ranked. I’m currently assisting general Xanadu, the head of Atlas’ military.”

So that Xanadu guy was probably the one he would succeed to… Castia noted it in a corner of her mind. Then she frowned:

“I thought you were assisting headmistress Quicksilver. Aren’t you her liaison with Atlas’ military?”

“I can do both,” Ironwood protested. “General Xanadu is the one who assigned me as Atlas’ Academy liaison. The military and the Huntsmen are closely collaborating in Atlas, and I am a trained Hunstmen as well as a member of a military, which make me well-suited to this dual role.”

Huh. And one day, military and Huntsmen would merge, probably when Ironwood would succeed to both this Xanadu guy and headmistress Quicksilver. Yeah, it made sense. Although, merging the two probably wasn’t a good idea… Sure, it made the military stronger, but the enemy couldn’t be defeated by brute force. Actually, the merging of Huntsmen with the military had benefited Salem, because rebels Huntsmen became rogues, easier to hunt down, and the military was easy to take control because it was so rigidly organized… Take the man at the top, and you have the whole structure crumbling down. The Huntsmen didn’t have this problem, since they didn’t have a structure…

“Wait,” she suddenly said. “Does that mean that you’re seeing the Council twice as often? You know, for your job as a military officer and your job at the Academy’s liaison?”

Ironwood groaned almost theatrically.

“You’re right. Oh Gods, give me patience.”

“Wait,” she smiled, “don’t you mean, ‘Give me strength’?”

“Oh no, if the Gods gave me strength we would be one less Councilman.”

“Leave that poor Hughes alone, I’m sure he can’t be that bad!” Castia laughed. “When is the next election, anyway? Maybe you can be a candidate, have his seat…”

“Not even if you paid me,” Ironwood said fervently. “I would much rather be on the field than at a desk.”

Well that would change in the coming years. Castia shrugged, and changed the subject:

“So, anyway. Are there news about sending an artificial satellite in space?”

There was no news, but Ironwood had talked to a lot of people and several of them had found it a promising idea. There was a candidate to Atlas’ Academy who could cancel gravity on any object he touched: he was going to be admitted in the Academy (but purely on his grades, Ironwood hastily specified, and not because of any hidden agenda from the military) and offered a part-time job was a helper in the Air Force Department if he wanted it. That was progress. There were already some scientists calculating the optimal trajectory to put an object in orbit around the planet. Nothing concrete had been done, true, but the idea had been planted. So they chatted back and forth about that, and Castia only hang up when the sun set down.

She never talked about her sister to Ironwood. Well, she never talked about Glynda to anyone, really, but if she had to vent to someone about her trouble, she would pick Ironwood. He was a good listener. He was kind and patient. Even if he didn’t have any advice to give, he would try to make her feel better. Also, he would probably take her side. James Ironwood was the kind of person to never turn his back on someone asking for his help, even if they were only peripherally friends. But Castia never raised the subject. She still didn’t know what kind of relationship there was between Ironwood and Glynda. Were they friends? When did they dance? Where? Did Glynda find him charming, as Amber had implied? What did Ironwood think about her? In any case, she didn’t want to weight Ironwood’s loyalty to her in comparison to his loyalty to her sister. There were too many unknown. What if he simply babbled to Glynda about her acceptation to Atlas’ Academy?

So she didn’t tell him. And she couldn’t really tell Amber either. Amber was… Well, she was kind too, but she wasn’t really a good listener. When she was in a bad mood, Castia would have called her selfish.

Alright, _selfish_ was too harsh. It was just that Amber cared about herself most of all. She was a loner, a traveler, interested in freedom more than anything. Other stuff was simply considered annoying. Guarding Ozpin was annoying, for example. And Castia was pretty sure that being stuck with the Maiden’s power was annoying too. Amber often travelled in the greatest discretion, but didn’t seems to have any secret mission, because she called Castia without hiding and spoke freely of her travels. So Castia was pretty sure that she was roaming the country unsupervised because she had snuck out of the Vale and didn’t want to be at Ozpin’s beck and call. She helped people when she could, but her freedom was the most important things for her. And… Castia could see why. Being a pawn in a war between immortals was no fun! But still, if she had been the one with the Maiden power (which she did not want to be, that was a terrifying thought), she liked to think that she wouldn’t have shy away from that responsibility.

Still. Amber wasn’t always alone. Sometime, when Castia called her, there was someone talking in the background. Amber never introduced him and the guy never showed up on the screen, but he sometime threw in a snide comment and Castia was about eighty-percent sure it was actually Qrow. The voice was familiar. Well, it wasn’t the most responsible person to keep an eye on a Maiden, but at least Amber wasn’t alone… And sometime, Castia really thought she shouldn’t be alone.

Seriously, Glynda raised hell about her being too young to graduate, but she was way more responsible than Amber.

“I can totally drive and talk on the Scroll at the same time,” Amber said casually one day, the Scroll appearing stuck to her dashboard and showing her driving on an apparently bumpy road that made the screen jerk up and down. “It’s a hand-free system! Besides, I’m a very confident driver.”

Off-screen, the guy who was possibly Qrow snorted:

“You almost ran over that guy who was yelling at us from the sidewalk.”

“And I am confident I won't miss next time.”

“You shouldn’t be let out without supervision,” despaired Castia. “What are you doing anyway, besides running over innocent people?”

“That guy was a dick, he had it coming!”

“Apparently not, since you missed!”

Amber squinted, briefly looking away from the windshield (well, Castia assumed she was looking through the windshield while driving, anyway) to throw her a dirty look:

“Well, karma will hit him eventually.”

“… Is that the name of your car?”

Amber burst out laughing:

“No, but it’s going to be! Well, if I keep it long enough to name it, anyway. I don’t really like cars, you know? I would rather have a horse! Better sight-seeing, better company, doesn’t stink, eco-friendly…”

“Well, what’s stopping you?” reasoned Castia.

“Well, I have a car for now. It would be dumb to have both. When the car dies, I’ll see about that horse.”

Personally Castia couldn’t understand why people liked horse. They were big, unintelligent, easily scared, could hurt you, could hurt themselves and die from it in the most stupid way, and weren’t that fast anyway. But she wasn’t going to be a killjoy. If Amber wanted a horse, well, she wasn’t going to stop her from buy a hundred-pounds crap machine.

“I’m more a cat person myself,” she said instead.

“Oh?” innocently said Amber while side-eyeing the off-screen guy who was probably in the passenger seat. “What about birds?”

See, that was why Amber wasn’t a good listener. She always brought the conversation back to something that interested her. She wasn’t really perceptive about her interlocutor’s needs. Oh, well. You didn’t need to be a good listener to be a good friend. Amber was funny, kind, sassy and talkative: that was plenty enough.

“I don’t really like birds,” Castia frowned. “Did you ever see a sparrow slam into a closed window? They’re dumb like toothpaste tubes.”

Amber giggled, and there was an offended noise from the guy who was possibly (but almost certainly) Qrow. Castia smirked and added:

“Besides, they shit everywhere. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Amber was still sporadically sniggering when she hang up ten minutes later.

Anyway. Castia lived her life, a bit lonelier than it had been in the past but way better than it had been in the months following her big falling out with Glynda. Glynda didn’t talk about Beacon, and Castia either. She had no news of Ozpin. It wasn’t surprising: the headmaster of Beacon Academy had no real reason for contacting her. But Castia still remembered his promise about telling her more about the world once she would have graduated. She hoped it would stay true even if she graduated in Atlas. Probably. Quicksilver was almost-certainly part of his Ozluminati, and having another Telekinesis user on their side wasn’t an asset that a wise leader would toss aside. But well, if Glynda had opposed her admission to Beacon, maybe Ozpin wouldn’t want her to get cross with him for contacting Castia. Maybe he wouldn’t introduce her to the conspiracy right away. He could wait for her to prove herself, or for Glynda to calm down.

That was fine. Castia could wait. She wouldn’t _like it_ , but she could. It was stagnation she hated, not progression, even if slow.

Because she was going to join their war. Not because of fate, not because of some mysterious destiny, but because it was her _choice_. Because she believed in a better world, even if her own sister didn’t. Glynda thought her childish for dreaming about safety and freedom like that, but she didn’t get it. She thought that her hope was something dumb, too idealistic, too _unrealistic_. A pipe dream to hide behind instead of facing reality. But it was the opposite, really.

Optimism was radical. It is the hard choice, the brave choice. And it was most needed now, here, in the face of such a dark word, just as a car was most useful when you have a distance to close. Otherwise it was just a large, unmovable object parked in the garage. These days, the safest way for someone to appear intelligent was being skeptical by default. But History and fables, at least in Castia’s old life, had both proven that nothing was ever entirely lost. David could take Goliath. A beach in Normandy could turn the tide of war. Bravery could topple the powerful. These facts were often seen as exceptional, but they were not. Every day, people became the balance of their choices: choices between love and fear, belief or despair. No hope was ever too small.

Castia had a heart full of hope, and she was going to take on the whole world. It was only a matter of time.

**oOoOoOo**

Weeks passed, then months. Castia eagerly started preparing for Atlas. She threw herself into her training. Atlas valued discipline, so she went to more and more tournaments: not only to fight, but also to observe, to analyze people’s different styles. Castia had always been a bit _wild_ in a fight. Sure, she was swift and elegant (her role model had been Glynda for fifteen years, after all), but she was mostly _brutal_. She needed to be more self-aware. You could be vicious in a fight and still be disciplined, but for that you needed to be more adaptable. And being more adaptable meant to be more knowledgeable.

So Castia trained. She read books. She participated in tournaments, and painfully befriended her some others contestants. She started to let Dad see her read adds about Atlas Academy, and draw his own conclusions. Her Dad was non-confrontational to the extreme, but he was smart. He got it. One evening, he gave her a long talk about leaving the nest and responsibilities and the fact that she would always stay his baby, asked her if she was sure, and… That was it.

Progressively, Castia changed her wardrobe. Until then, she had worn white, grey, purple and black, in that order. But looking back, she had just tried to look like her sister, and… She wasn’t fine with it anymore. She changed her sleek black boots for combat ones, in dark brown leather, less fashionable but whose soles had a better grip. Her grey trousers were swapped for slim high-waisted black jeans: still cute, but more modern. Her high-collared tops were thrown out, as were her suit-style jackets. They were pretty and functional, true, but she didn’t want to look like she dressed out of Glynda’s closet anymore. Instead she wore an off-white long-sleeved flaring shirt, with a trim of red at the neckline and ruffles on the wrists. She privately thought it was pretty cool; she looked like a vampire huntress straight out of a _Van Hellsing_ movie. She still needed a jacket, but this time she picked one with a cut that looked Slavic, not Victorian like most of Glynda’s clothes. The garment didn’t have any lapels, for one. It was embroidered with silver thread, had flared sleeves to hide knives, and hits just below the bust line. The jacked was purple velvet, but a darker shade that what Glynda wore, almost burgundy.

Her style was still similar to her sister’s: she valued elegance and it showed. Her trousers were form fitting, and the high waist showed off her figure. But she looked different now, more like her own person, not like someone desperately trying to emulate her Glynda’s Victorian and ultra-feminine style while wearing boots and pants. She looked like someone who knew in what direction she was going, and that direction wasn’t the same as her sister’s.

Dad didn’t notice (or noticed but didn’t comment, more likely: he knew what those changes announced), but Glynda did. At least, she became aware that something was different. She innocently tried to ask if Castia had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. The answer was no, but still, kudos for being open-minded. Castia was ninety percent sure she was straight, thought. In any case, she had never really been interested by romance. So Glynda asked if everything was alright with tournaments (yes), if she had new friends (no), if she had new hobby (no)…

It was finally in June that the truth came out. It was ironic: Castia had managed to send her application to Atlas Academy and receive an acceptation letter without Glynda noticing it, and she was caught because of the stupidest thing… She hadn’t applied to Beacon Academy. And Glynda knew her too well to think that she had given up trying to graduate early. So after nearly a year of silence about their big fight, Glynda one day stopped tiptoeing around the issue and said upfront:

“You know I won’t let you be accepted into Beacon Academy this year either.”

Castia froze with her hot chocolate halfway to her mouth. She wouldn’t have been more taken aback if her sister had just dumped a dead body on the breakfast table. After the shock quickly came anger, thought. After all this time, Glynda still made it sound as if what she had done was acceptable, as if Castia was the irrational one for being angry at her!

“Oh yes,” she sneered. “I forgot that my life revolved around you _letting_ me do things. I’m _so grateful_ that you’re willing to throw me scraps of autonomy.”

Dad looked alarmed. He was already ready to leave, his suitcase in hand, but right now he seemed torn between staying to calm down things or fleeing as fast as he could. Glynda narrowed her eyes, both sisters glaring fiercely at each other.

“Don’t start, Castia.”

“I haven’t started anything,” she swung back. “Unlike you.”

“I thought you were over it,” snapped Glynda.

“I am,” growled her sister. “It doesn’t mean that I have forgiven you.”

Glynda recoiled, dismayed.

“Forgiven…? I was trying to protect you! I told you that!”

_No, you were trying to pointlessly assert dominance like a dick_ , Castia almost snapped back. But she didn’t want to said it, didn’t want to make it true. Because if Glynda had sabotaged her to assert dominance, then it had worked. She had beaten her. She had beaten her and broke her trust.

“No you weren’t,” she hissed instead. “Because you knew I could have handled anything Beacon could throw at me. I didn’t need protection. Find yourself another excuse.”

“Beacon Academy isn’t like your primary school!” Glynda said angrily. “It’s not just a matter of being able to fight! It’s… It’s… The adults’ word! There are dangerous people, and international relationships to consider, and… And…”

Her older sister, always so composed and sure of herself, seemed at a loss for words, like she couldn’t find a way to just tell _what_ was so dangerous, and in a flash a brutal understanding Castia finally realized _why_ she had done it. _It was about Ozpin_. It was about his secret conspiracy. Glynda knew, but she couldn’t tell anyone, but she still wanted to keep Castia away. And just after that realization there was a new burst of anger, because how did she _dare_?! Couldn’t she see that Castia wanted to fight for humanity, too? Did she really thought that Castia was going to _stay on the sidelines_ , after she had proclaimed wanting to get the world rid of the Grimm?!

“I know that!” she exploded. “But that’s not a reason!”

“No you don’t know!” riposted her sister. “And you think you’re ready to take on the whole world, but graduating early would make you noticeable, and being noticeable when you’re just starting is not a good thing, Castia!”

“Is that what this is about?” Castia exclaimed incredulously. “Because it would have been _noticeable_? IN WHAT WORLD ARE YOU LIVING IN?! I fight with huge explosions! _I can fly!_ I’m a fucking Goodwitch, related to _you_ , the freaking vice-headmistress of the Academy! It doesn’t matter how old I would be when graduating, _I would still stand out_!”

Glynda clenched her jaw:

“You don’t have to stand out even _more_!”

Dad coughed awkwardly. Both sisters shut up, glaring at each other. If looks could kill, Glynda would have been set on fire instantly. But she stubbornly remained not-on-fire, and Dad cautiously stepped between his daughters, hands raised in a pacifying gesture.

“Please don’t yell, you two. Castia, you should try understanding where your sister is coming from, she had good intentions. And Glynda… You shouldn’t have done it.”

Glynda took a step back, looking shocked. Castia was taken by surprise too. After nearly a year of resolutely not taking any sides, _now_ her father spoke up? She appreciated the sentiment, of course, but it was unexpected. And too late.

“What?” croaked Glynda. “But you know…”

“Yes,” her father cut her off. “I know you want to protect her. But instead of talking with her and seeking alternatives, or reasoning with me to calm down your fears, you went behind our backs and sabotaged her application. It was wrong, Glynda, and I thought I raised you better than that.”

Glynda looked as if he had slapped her. She was twenty-seven, a woman grown, the most self-assured and confident person Castia knew, but right now she looked like a little girl.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

Dad let his shoulders drop, like all of his sternness was drained out of him.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to, Glynda.”

Glynda threw a quick look at her sister and stiffened. A bit of combativeness came back in her voice:

“I did what I thought best. I shouldn’t have done it like that, and I’m sorry if I hurt her… But it wasn’t wrong.”

_And you can’t even admit you have fucked_ _up_ , Castia thought, disgusted. _You’re sorry ‘if I’m hurt’? Pah! This is the most non- apology ever._ _You can’t even look me in the eyes and said ‘sorry’, you would rather argue with Dad whether or not you should be sorry and for what, ignoring me all the while!_

“No Glynda,” sighed Dad. “You can’t argue your way out of this, just as I can’t avoid it any longer. You were wrong, and I should have said something.”

“Yeah,” Castia piped up angrily. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I had no idea it had damaged your relationship,” Dad admitted. “I thought… I didn’t know what I thought. You had never argued like that before. I thought that Glynda would apologize, that you would stop feeling hurt, that things would get better. But they didn’t, and now… Well. I guess I should have been a better peacekeeper.”

Castia bit her lip, suddenly feeling a bit guilty. Ah. She realized, suddenly, what it looked like for her dad. Tentatively, she asked:

“You know I’m not leaving Vale because of that, right?”

“You _what_ now?!” exclaimed Glynda.

Dad smiled a bit sadly, ignoring her eldest’s outburst:

“Aren’t you?”

Well, yeah.

“Alright, you got me,” she admitted. “But it’s my choice. It’s not your fault at all. It’s not even your responsibility.”

“ _You’re leaving Vale?!_ ” Glynda repeated with incredulity that was quickly gaining an edge of fury, like a kettle boiling over. “When did you decide this? Where are you going?! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Castia inhaled. She felt her temper, rising, but… Seeing her father take position even if it was completely against his nature, and seeing how resigned he was to all of it… It had drained the fight out of her. It was just so _sad_. How could Glynda and her have come to this? It was like they were speaking different languages. Her sister couldn’t see that her trust had been broken. She didn’t even realize she had hurt Castia… Or maybe she did realize but didn’t care, which was worse. Castia wanted to yell and shake her until she _understood_ , but she couldn’t. They had already yelled at each other and hurt each other so much, and for what? It hadn’t worked. It would never work.

Anger bubbled in her chest like a kettle about to overflow, and the pointlessness of the situation tasted like ashes in her mouth. It was time to cut her losses. So Castia turned towards her sister, and said deliberately:

“I wanted to go to Beacon Academy to have your back. But you don’t have mine, and you never will. If you refuse to trust me and I can’t trust you, then there is no point. So I’m going to another Academy.”

Glynda looked aghast:

“Castia, I didn’t mean to make you think… I trust you, it’s just that…”

“That you would rather have me under glass instead of letting me fight”, Castia achieved angrily. “I know that. But the thing is, _it doesn’t matter_. I’m going to be a Huntress anyway, and I’m going to eradicate the Grimm.”

Glynda startled, not having expecting that (had she really thought that it was just a childish dream? Gods, for how long have they been drifting apart without realizing it?), but Castia was on a roll, and she finished with a biting tone, willing every word to hurt like shrapnel:

“I’m going to fight. _You can’t stop me from fighting_. It would have been great to do it by your side but I think I’m better off on my own. Besides, you’re right about one thing: being your sister at Beacon would have made me noticeable. Good thing that I’m leaving, then! At least in Atlas I will be my own person. Seems like all my problems come from you, actually!”

It was harsh. It was meant to hurt, and Castia felt guilty almost immediately, even as she took some kind of vicious satisfaction in the way Glynda looked like she had been stabbed. Even Dad said, in a reproachful tone of voice:

“Castia, that’s enough.”

Not it wasn’t. Castia’s guilt upon seeing her sister’s hurt look was quickly drowned by bitterness. It wasn’t enough because Glynda would never _get it_. Just thinking about it fanned her anger. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? They didn’t understand each other anymore. They just yelled hurtful thing at each other, pointlessly. One more reason to leave this fucking place…. Castia turned away.

“Yeah. I think we’re done here. Anyway, I’m leaving in two weeks. Most of my stuff is already packed, so I won’t be in your way much.”

She actually had planned to leave in a month, and hadn’t reserved a plane ticket yet. But now that the cat was out of the back, well, Castia certainly didn’t want to stay long enough for Glynda to regain her bearings and try to sabotage her again. She started rising to leave the table, willing her face to stay calm and devoid of any emotion. She had a lump in a throat, and she didn’t even know if it was anger or despair. She just wanted that fucking conversation to end.

“Wait,” said Glynda.

Scratch that, two weeks would be too long. Castia’s fingers tightened on the chair, and she turned toward her sister.

“On second thought,” she said in a controlled voice, “I don’t want _you_ to be in my way either.”

“What does that mean?” Glynda asked apprehensively, half-rising from her chair.

Castia’s heart was beating wildly. It was one thing to yell at her sister when she was emotional and that all of her feelings were pouring out uncontrollably, it was another to just coldly throw that in her face. But she had to do it. Because she was pissed, because she was hurt, because Glynda just _didn’t get it_ : but mostly because she was afraid, because she loved her sister and that same sister would hurt her again, and she had to protect herself. It was over. Their bond, their childish confidence, their trust, she was done with it, and she wanted Glynda to _fucking stop trying to fix it_.

“It meant that I don’t want to talk to you,” she spat. “I don’t want to have any contact with you, at all, unless it’s because you want to apologize.”

Glynda rose from her seat, dismayed. The situation was spiraling out of her control. Castia barely remembered how the argument had started, but Glynda had seemed confident, maybe just annoyed: right now, thought, it was gone, and her sister looked almost shocked.

“Castia, you’re not serious”, she pleaded. “You’re going too far, it was just two years… I just wanted to protect you!”

“I didn’t want you to protect me!” Castia exploded. “I wanted you to stand by my side while I protected myself!”

Glynda recoiled, opened her mouth to protest… Things would probably have escalated from there, but once again, Dad stepped between his daughters:

“Alright, that’s enough. Castia, you have some packing to do. Glynda, why don’t you take a walk?”

Glynda clenched her jaw, eyes blazing, and stormed out. Castia let herself fall back in her chair like a puppet whose strings were cut.

Gods, she hated arguing with people. It made her angry and frustrated and sad and _stupidly emotional_. Arguing with Glynda was even worse. She hadn’t planned for things to go that far, but, well… No plan survives first contact with the enemy. And just after that thought there was another, dismayed: was Glynda her enemy now? Were things really that bad? No, it was only anger talking. But… The wound was deep. Healing it could only begin by Glynda making the first step, and… She clearly didn’t intend to.

“Are you going to be alright?” quietly asked her father.

Castia managed a smile:

“Yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

She realized, a while after her father had left for work, that it wasn’t even a lie. She was angry, bitter, and sad. But… She was fine. Really, she was. She wasn’t gutted like she had been right after their first argument. She wasn’t angry and lost like she had been in the following months. Sure, she was pissed by Glynda’s continued denial about doing anything wrong, but her sister wasn’t the center of her universe anymore. Besides, she had known the explosion was coming. It was less painful when it was expected.

Still, it had hurt. That year had sucked, but that was the cherry on the top. So Castia moved on. She wanted to leave all of that hurt behind her. She packed her things. Her dad helped her reserve a hotel in Atlas, paid for her plane ticket, and even paid for her tuitions’ fees (even thought Castia insisted she could paid them with her winnings from this year’s tournaments). He bought her a new Scroll. Castia told Amber and Ironwood she was coming to Atlas, and briefly mentioned arguing with her sister about it. Amber told her to go and live her dreams, Ironwood asked if she needed to talk about it. She thanked both but didn’t expand. She didn’t really want to.

Two weeks later, she boarded her plane and left the Vale… All without speaking to her sister.

**oOoOoOo**

There were still two whole months before the beginning of the school year, and Castia didn’t really know what to do with herself during that time. She couldn’t participate into Atlas’ tournaments without a citizenship. She couldn’t use the training grounds at Atlas’ Academy without being a student. She didn’t want to bother Quicksilver (that lunatic grandma intimidated her a bit). So naturally, she bothered Ironwood.

She was all alone in a new country, with no contact, and she had just burned her bridges with her sister. She didn’t tell him the details, but she told enough. He immediately offered to spend time with her, to recommend her good place to live, to put her in contact with others people. He introduced her to a boxing club (because he used to do kick boxing, which was awesome), to a local weapon shop, and even gave her a pass so she could carry her weapon in the streets. He gave her Quicksilver’s Scroll’s number, even if Castia swore that she absolutely didn’t want to call her. He gave her the contact information of a bunch of people living in the area, most of them military, in case she ever ran into trouble.

He didn’t have to do all that, but James Ironwood clearly had a saving people thing. Almost a hero complex, really. Castia felt a little bad for taking advantage of it, but well… It wasn’t like she had a lot of options.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” she hesitated (although she totally was).

“You’re not,” Ironwood said immediately. “What can I do?”

Castia didn’t know. She wanted things to magically get better. She wanted Glynda to apologize. She wanted to stop thinking about her sister. She wanted the school year to begin already so she could finally learn the real stuff about being a Huntress. She wanted to have a team, and have friends, and go forward. She wanted to be introduced to the Ozluminati and do something concrete for the war, like telling them about launching the Relics in space or telling the world about Salem to unite people (yes, she had stolen both of those idea from future-Ironwood. So sue her, he had good points there).

“Well,” she finally said. “We could train?”

Ironwood smiled, the corners of his eyes cricking up.

“You know what, it’s a great idea. I can even get us one of the Academy’s training grounds for that.”

“Really?” Castia exclaimed. “When?”

“Tomorrow?” he shrugged. “I’ve done enough overtime to take my whole afternoon, and then some more.”

Apparently his whole life was work, work, and work. They talked a bit after that, and Castia got a brief backstory. Like her, Ironwood wanted to make the world a better place from a very young age. He had graduated top of his class at Atlas Academy and immediately enlisted in the military. He wanted to be general, to protect the people of Atlas. He was in good terms with almost everyone, but his frankness and his ambition had also won him a few enemies. His old teammates still worked with him (they all enlisted in the military) but Ironwood was the highest ranking and the hierarchy had created a distance between then. He didn’t have many friends, mostly because the only way for him to meet people was at work, and it would have been unprofessional to form personal ties to colleagues in a military setting. Maybe some people were able to mix business and private life, but not Ironwood, and not when it was military business. He took great pride in being utterly professional.

It explained a bit why he had immediately accepted her company. Who else could he talk to? James Ironwood was… Well, probably not _lonely_. He was passionate about what he did, he wasn’t bored or sad or anything. But he was isolated. So when someone offered him a hand in friendship and a bit of conversation that did not revolve around work, he had been glad to take it.

Anyway. Ironwood took off an afternoon… Then another, three days later… Then another, a week after that. Training was awesome. The training ground was actually a big pine forest with plenty of trees to climb, hide, or jump from, and Castia had a great time. Besides, Ironwood was a good shot and Castia had never had the occasion to train with an experienced fighter like him. With his Gravity-Dust augmented bullets, he could propel himself into the air, a bit like she did with Telekinesis. He also fought like a boxer in hand-to-hand combat, like Castia herself… Except he was three times as strong. It was an experience alright. The first four times, he kicked her ass soundly, but then she decided to throw caution out of the widow and started unleashing blasts of power everywhere. She won their three last fights, but devastated a good portion of the forest and still ended up outmaneuvered every time. It was clear that he had strategic training and she had not.

Still, it was great. Castia leaned plenty of new maneuvers. Ironwood was really enthusiastic too. He wasn’t a sore loser (unlike her) and gave her pointers and news idea. He admired the way she made the battlefield three-dimensional: most Huntsmen didn’t think of it. He even offered to have the military upgrade her weapons. Ironwood clearly enjoyed their fights. They did races, him propelled by his pistol with gravity bullets, and Castia by her Semblance. They challenged each others to crazy stunts. Once, they went to another training ground outside of Atlas, in the frozen tundra a few kilometers away from the city, to test themselves against a small pack of Beowolves. It was the kind of irresponsible shit Castia would have expected to do with thrill-seekers teenagers, but Ironwood treated it like a reconnaissance mission, with the utmost gravity, and it was fucking great! She had the time of her life! Seriously, she was almost reconsidering joining the military right now!

So they trained at least once a week together. They had a great deal of fun, not only while shooting at each other and trying to smash the other into the ground, but also afterward, talking about what they did right or wrong while coming back to the city, or discussing modified weapons or robotics while drinking fruity cocktails in a nearby café (Ironwood refused to order a beer, even for himself, since she was a minor). Training was pretty much the only way Castia knew to hang out with someone, after all. Ironwood wasn’t the only socially awkward person here. Castia suspected it was the only time he went out, and he was probably as surprised as her about what a good time he was having.

They talked about a bit of everything. Ironwood complained about some of his coworkers, but sometimes went onto great tangent about what he would do in their shoes, and his vision was so filled with idealism that Castia honestly wondered how that guy had ended up in the army. He wanted to double the budget to build better walls around Mantle, create shelters, and better living conditions. He had started looking into labor law to see if there was a way to help Schnee’s Dust Compagny’s workers unionize, since their work condition were too harsh and unsafe. He had started learning a new language because there had been several immigrants from Vacuo seeking citizenship and living next to him, and he wanted to make them feel welcome. Seriously, that guy was such a Hufflepuff.

It was sad, in some way, because Castia knew that something terrible was going to happen to him. Something that was going to harden him into a man willing to abandon the city of Mantle to its death. It wasn’t going to happen all at once, she knew. It would be years and years of battle, defeats, loneliness, and then the Fall of Beacon and the loss of everyone he trusted. But someday, that endless hope in Ironwood was going to be snuffed out by fear and despair, and it made Castia sad. It made her _afraid_ , because his idealism reminded her of… Well, _hers_ , and she didn’t want to end up alone and scared like he was going to be. The world was already so cruel and indifferent. People like her, people like him, shouldn’t have to be broken.

She wanted to tell him to never lose that bright flame of hope for a better future that burned high in his heart. She wanted to tell him to not let the world make him hard, to not let pain make him hateful. Or maybe, really, she wanted to tell that to herself, to her future self, because somewhere down the line she knew she would need to hear someone say those words to her. _Stay strong. Stay soft. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place._ She had the words on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back. She wrote them in her poetry diary, instead, and hoped it was enough.

She had knew James Ironwood for months now, but it was then, during those two months were he was pretty much her only human contact in Atlas, that they really got to know each other. In her head, he started become _James_ and not just _Ironwood_. He was a real person she knew and liked, more than he was a canon character. During those two months, they realized how much common ground they had, as two idealists dreaming too big for this grim world. Castia had never thought about it, but they were really similar. Once, she had thought that nobody would understood her like Glynda, but now that she realized that she only thought that because Glynda was her only friend, and she probably hadn’t even understood her at all. But with Ironwood, well, they clicked. Sure, they disagreed on some topics, but they had the same passion about the future, the same optimism. It was during those two months that they really become friends. They spent so much time with each others, they talked so much about who they were and what they wanted to become, that it was inevitable.

So naturally, in return, Castia started opening up. She told him about her father, Hayden Goodwitch, who didn’t like conflict and loved his daughters enough to let them leave. She told him a bit about her mother, whom she had never known but who came from Atlas. She talked about her sister Glynda, and the fights she had with her: the first one, last year, but also their more recent one, just before her departure for Atlas. She told him about how Glynda wanted to protect her, not seeing they could be fighting side by side instead. She told him about her dream of a better world, and how people didn’t take it seriously.

Oh, he had raised his eyebrows incredulously when she had said she wanted to get the world rid of the Grimm, but Castia had only raised her voice, hammering her opinion with even more conviction… And at the end he toasted her completely unironically. Maybe he didn’t believe she could do it, because it was batshit insane, but at least he hadn’t dismissed her ambition as a foolish dream like Glynda had done.

They saw each other pretty regularly, and of course they texted almost every day, but Castia also met new people. Granted, most of them were introduced to her by James. There was the owner of the boxing club, for example, but Castia meet herself several people at the gym that were happy to wish her welcome to Atlas. She lived in a hotel for the time being, and the staff was full of solicitude (but it probably had more to do with Dad’s money than with her personally). And, of course, Castia was still in touch with Amber…

She had told her she was in Atlas now, but she didn’t recount every day of her life, so Amber didn’t know (of, rather, hadn’t realized) that she had reconnected with James Ironwood. She learned of it towards mi-August, when Castia badgered James into taking a selfie with her, and sent the picture to Amber. Of course, the Fall Maiden replied with a series of incredulous text, not believing that Castia had actually managed to drag James out of his office. _Work-alcoholic_ was the nicest term she used. When Castia put her Scroll back in her pocket, she couldn’t help but shake her head fondly:

“She thinks you should go out more.”

“She thinks that about everyone,” replied James, slipping his drink. “Amber gets claustrophobic if she’s stuck in an office: she wouldn’t last three days in my job.”

“You know her well,” Castia blinked.

She was a bit surprised. When she had seen them together at the Vytal Festival nearly six months ago, they hadn’t radiated friendship. Amber was boisterous as usual, but James had ignored her when he could.

“Not really,” Ironwood refuted. “But we met half a dozen of time at different parties or official meeting. She won the Vytal Tournament the year where I started shadowing headmistress Quicksilver, three years ago, and since then… Well, she had been invited to three tournaments in Atlas, two meet-and-greets where she shadowed Ozpin, and once her team had been sent by Ozpin for a mission that coincided with something Atlas military as investigating.”

“Well,” Castia said noncommittally, “she is Beacon prime student. Maybe Ozpin has great plans for her.”

But Ironwood frowned, thoughtful:

“I doubt it. Amber is… too restless. She wouldn’t do well as a teacher or a soldier. Besides, it doesn’t seem like Beacon is showing off its best Huntress: she clearly hate the spotlight, Ozpin had to drag her with him every time. Almost like…”

“… Like he is the one baby-sitting her?” Castia completed.

They shared a look. Castia’s heart was beating fast. She knew what it was about, because she knew about the Maiden and the conspiracy, but _Ironwood didn’t_ and he had still noticed. She couldn’t help but feel like a thrill of excitement at the idea of uncovering the Ozluminati. Did it happen like that in canon, with Ironwood discovering the conspiracy by himself, just by piecing together clues that nobody bothered to pay attention to?

“Exactly,” finally said James, putting his drink back on the table. “But it doesn’t really make sense. Beacon Academy had produced many talented students. Why the headmaster would focus so much on one so rebellious?”

Castia winced. She personally thought that Amber had gotten her Maiden power while in school, in a totally unexpected manner. Ozpin was stuck with her the same way that Amber was stuck with her powers. She wasn’t the kind of Maiden that Ozpin would have liked to have, that was for sure. She was too independent, too attached to her freedom.

“Ozpin is weird?” she offered uncertainly. “Besides, he always manages to tie strong students to Beacon. Even before she became a teacher, Glynda was part of his inner circle. He gave her contacts and everything.”

James nodded thoughtfully:

“Yes, that’s how I met her. But, no offense, but Amber is nothing like Glynda. She want nothing more than, well… to go on her separate way.”

Damn. He was smart. Alright, she was going to have to wing it. How would someone like her, knowing only what she was supposed to know, would respond to that? Should she dismiss this lead? Tell Ironwood it was nothing? Misdirect, maybe? Insinuate that it wasn’t their business? Let it go?

Oh, screw it.

“Maybe she is involved in state secrets!” she said, eyes sparkling.

James raised both eyebrows, incredulous:

“Amber? She isn’t exactly subtle!”

“I don’t mean to say she’s a spy,” Castia said impatiently, gesturing vaguely. “I meant that she knows top secret stuff, maybe because her team found out something during a mission. Like a mine of Dust or… No, too boring. Like a secret plan to launch satellites into space! And now she’s part of the story, even if she would rather roam the country on horseback!”

James squinted, contemplating the idea.

“It seems a bit far-fetched,” he said cautiously.

Castia couldn’t help but feel a stab of disappointment. Now that she had laid her clues out there, she wanted him to get it, to share her excitement at the idea that there was more to learn… She wanted him to realize that the headmasters and headmistress were onto something big, something international, and that they should get in!

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that,” slowly said James, still frowning at nothing in particular. “It’s that I had similar suspicion a while ago and that the fact that you had the same idea is rather alarming. So I’m trying to find a counter-hypothesis and failing.”

Castia smiled triumphantly:

“It fit, doesn’t it?”

“But what would be this big secret?” Ironwood continued, still frowning.

He had leaned forward a bit, lowering his voice. He believed her! Castia could barely contain her exhilaration. Finally someone to talk about this! Someone who wanted to make the world better, who could understand her frustration with being keep out of the loop! She leaned forward, whispering excitedly:

“I call it ‘the conspiracy’. I think Glynda is part of it. I have nothing concrete, of course, but I think it had to do with all the international contacts Ozpin has. I think it’s about the Huntsmen… Or maybe the Grimm.”

James’ eyes sharpened:

“The Grimm?”

“It a just hunch,” she hastily added. “You see, three years ago… I talked to Ozpin about wanting to eradicate the Grim, about how people should unite and everything… And he said something about me not being the only one fighting for humanity’s victory, and that he would tell me more when I will graduate.”

Ironwood froze:

“Headmistress Quicksilver said those exact words to me.”

Castia hadn’t expected that, and she almost spilled her drink on herself.

“What?!” she exclaimed. “What do you mean?!”

“When general Xanadu affected me as her liaison,” Ironwood said lowly. “He told her about my will to protect Atlas, about my ideals, and she said… _It’s always a pleasure to meet someone who believes in fighting for humanity’s victory_. She and general Xanadu had smiled then, and I had thought it was some kind of inside joke… Do you think it’s a coincidence?”

“No,” Castia said immediately, because it definitely wasn’t.

Holy shit. It was all coming together. She really, really hadn’t expected things to fall in place so quickly. But Ozpin was planning to recruit her and had given her clues, and both Quicksilver and general Xanadu planned on recruiting Ironwood, so they had given him clues too… Well, maybe not voluntarily, but they hadn’t tried to hide their association, and that was by itself quite a big lead.

“Maybe it’s an inside joke,” Castia murmured. “They don’t go around telling people they want to eradicate the Grimm, people would laugh in their face, but if they talk about humanity’s victory… Well, it can mean anything: victory against the worst of humankind, victory against fear and despair, even victory over adversity. But those who are in it…”

“… They know what the victory is against,” achieved Ironwood. “And Quicksilver, Xanadu and Ozpin would be in this together…”

“Maybe the other headmasters too,” pointed Castia.

“And they are _recruiting_ ,” Ironwood continued with an air of realization. “Your sister had been recruited by Ozpin, most likely. So was Amber, even if it was by accident. Ozpin planned to recruit _you_ before you went to Atlas. And…”

“… General Xanadu wants to recruit you, most likely,” achieved Castia with excitation. “That’s why he put you as a liaison with Atlas Academy, so Quicksilver could approve of you so they could both bring you in!”

There was a silence. James seemed a bit overwhelmed. Absentmindedly, he took his half-empty glass of cocktail and drained it. He looked like he would have liked to have something stronger instead. Castia almost regretted dumping all of this on him… Almost. It felt so good to talk about it! Besides, she wasn’t taking any real risk. Not only was Ironwood going to be recruited (either by Quicksilver, Xanadu, or Ozpin himself) because it happened in the canon storyline, but she also trusted his character. He was part of the Good Guys. It wasn’t just something she knew from her past-life, it was something she had saw for herself. He could be trusted.

He still looked like rather shaken. After a while, he said cautiously:

“I still think it’s far-fetched.”

“It’s kind of fishy,” Castia admitted.

“But…” Ironwood said slowly. “It may have some basis.”

There was another silence, almost longer, while they both absorbed that. Ironwood rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking tired.

“I really don’t like the idea of the head of the military and the headmaster of others Academy colluding secretly, without any governmental oversight. If it’s true… They may be even doing this behind the Council’s back.”

It was so rich coming from him that Castia barely repressed a snort of amusement. James was still so honest, so fully believing into the system. It was almost candid of him. He sighed, seemingly realizing how naïve it was to think that no member of the brass ever hid things, especially classified international matters. Reluctantly, he added:

“But sometime there are dangerous secrets that require the utmost secrecy. Even if it’s not about defeating the Grimm, even if it’s just fighting them. They are such a great danger that it would made sense for the government to hide things about them. And if general Xanadu _and_ _every headmaster_ are in it together…”

He stopped, at a loss for word. Castia nodded wisely:

“It must be huge.”

“And we shouldn’t speak about it,” he added.

“What?” immediately protested Castia, feeling betrayed.

“It’s top-secret,” Ironwood berated her. “Military doesn’t take kindly to nosy people. We could both be in trouble. No, it would be better to go by the proper channels.”

The proper channels…? Then Castia understood, and pouted:

“Waiting until they come to us? But that could take years!”

“Maybe,” nodded James. “But sometimes, it’s the price to pay to have someone trust you, especially with a big secret.”

He pushed his glass to the middle of the table, and Castia watched it absent-mindedly. She hadn’t thought of that. Trust needed time. She trusted Ozpin, but what reason had Opzin to trust her? She was Glynda’s sister, but it didn’t mean anything, especially after cutting off Glynda. And she was going to Atlas Academy, now. It was _here_ that she needed to prove herself. She needed to get noticed by Quicksilver. And she _could_. It wasn’t the same thing as last years, with her progression cut short. She had a chance to prove herself now.

“Alright,” she suddenly said, raising her head with determination. “But the first one of us who is recruited has to recruit the other. Deal?”

“Deal,” Ironwood snorted.

He was smiling, amused, and his shoulders relaxed. He probably thought the chances were pretty low. He was probably already convincing himself that maybe there wasn’t even a conspiracy, that they were just being too imaginative. Ha! He was in for a big surprise.

Because Castia fully intended to get into this Ozluminati nonsense, and the faster the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to draw Castia's new look, be my guest ! I suck at drawing so I never managed to make fanart for my fanfictions. Anyway, Castia's new look is heavely inspired by the stunning costume of Anna Valerious in the movie Van Hellsing. That jacket... The hight boots... The flaring sleeves of the shirt... *chef's kiss*  
> The only things missing are heels and a corset, but those are kind of Glynda's style, so Castia would wear them x)
> 
> Anyway ! Castia and Ironwood being friends is my jam. Poor guy need to go out more, working so much isn't healthy.


	5. Learning to fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life of Castia's Goodwich, age sixteen, starting the Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, the world is crazy right now. My boss was fired. I have a new boss who's trying to sink the ship and blame the old boss. I was already doing the job of two people, now it's going to be three. One of my coworker is probably one crisis away from a burn-ou. I'm wondering if i should quit... It's insane.  
> Well this whole year had been batshit insane anyway. I can' belive March is three months away. I'm still trying to get over last Match !
> 
> Anyway. Here is the new chapter !

The first day of school, Castia was so nervous that she could barely eat her breakfast. She checked her clothes five times, and went to the Academy clutching her Twin Twilight nervously. There were so many people! Sure, there had been more last year during the Vytal Festival, but now it was different. It was _her school_. There was _pressure_. First year students were to go to a big conference hall, and she almost went the wrong way twice. Her palms were sweating. This place was a maze. Finally, thought, she managed to get in the right room, and even found a place next to a girl with pastel pink hair and bright blue eyes, that was almost bouncing in her seat.

“I’m Erin Ebi,” the pink-haired girl cheerfully introduced herself.

_And with this setting I bet you’re going to be relevant to the Plot_ , thought Castia. With that hair color, sitting next to her, introducing herself spontaneously like that… She was either going to be her teammate or her Eternal Rival. That was basically the introductory chapter of every manga set in a school, ever.

“Castia Goodwitch,” she answered awkwardly. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The light above the podium switched on. The conversations died out, leaving a hushed silence in their wake. Headmistress Quicksilver slowly made her way to the center of the stage. Her vice-headmaster (an old man with a short grey beard, named professor Foggy) was standing two steps behind her, to her right, while the military liaison (James Ironwood himself, in full uniform and his face impassible) was standing three steps behind her, to her left.

“Welcome, welcome,” the old grandma benevolently said. “If you have come here, it is to become Huntsmen and Huntress. An arduous path lies ahead of you, a path that not two people will walk the same. Some of you may wish to enlist into the military to better serve our kingdom, while others would rather be on their own. Some of you will be team leaders, some will be solo fighters, and some will be team operatives. Every one of you is unique, full of hopes and dreams.”

Her kind facade dropped, her eyes turning cold, and she leaned in the microphone to achieved in a sinister tone:

“But most of you will be dead before reaching thirty.”

Castia gulped. Well, that was unsettling. Around her, most students shifted uneasily while the headmistress cool gaze scrutinized her public. Castia felt like her eyes had stopped on her for a second, but it was probably only her imagination.

“The training of Huntsmen and Huntress is as harsh as their life. This school will teach you to fight, to kill, to protect, to improve. But it can’t teach you to survive. Surviving is something that is done, not taught. And even if you do your very best, sometimes, it may not be enough.”

She suddenly smiled brightly, going back to her grandmotherly persona:

“So your training start now! Expect the best, plan for the worst, and prepare to be surprised!”

She then turned way and left the podium without any other word, whistling under her breath. Castia felt a bit like the rug had been pulled from under her feet, and she still had been expecting something weird from the headmistress. The others students must think her crazy. Oh gods, her school headmistress was basically a parody of _Dumbledore_. The only thing missing would be her offering lemon candies to random people.

The vice-headmaster cleared his throat and leaned toward the microphone:

“The initiation will start in one hour. A preliminary sorting had been made, dividing you in three groups based on you combat abilities. Each group will be sent to a different training ground, where you will fight Grim to acquire a token and then come back to the rendezvous point. During that time, your objective is to find yourself a partner, who will be your teammate for the next three to four years, and to joint force with another duo to form a four-people team.”

Three big translucent screens appeared above the podium, listing names by alphabetical order. Each had a different symbol above the list of names: one was a snowflake, the other a stylized wave, the last one a cloud.

“To the Ice Group: your initiation will be at training ground thirty-one in the frozen tundra,” continued professor Foggy. “Please follow professor Zelena. The Ocean group will go to training ground sixteen, near the coast. Please follow professor Maastricht. The Sky group will be sent to training ground twenty-five, in the mountains. Please follow professor Bole. Make sure you all have your weapon. A compass and a map will be given to you before the beginning of your trial. That will be all.”

He left and Ironwood followed, while a brouhaha of anxious whispers filled the room. Castia frenetically searched her name on the big screens. Not Ice… Not Ocean… Ha, there!

“I’m in Sky group!”

“Me too!” her neighbor Erin exclaimed, looking a bit relieved. “That’s lucky, I didn’t want to be all alone on the first day. I don’t know anyone yet! Well, I have my cousin but he’s a third year. What about you?”

Well that one was chatty. Still, Castia was glad to have someone to talk to. Walking alone to the rendezvous point in awkward silence would have made her even more nervous! So while they followed professor Bole (a short, stocky man in a white aviator outfit), Castia answered cheerfully:

“I don’t know anyone either! I’m from Vale, all the people I know are at Beacon.”

Except James, but bragging about knowing a teacher (wait, was he even a teacher here? What was the military liaison’s job exactly?) was a sure way to pass for a teacher’s pet.

“You didn’t want to go to Beacon Academy?” Erin asked curiously.

“My sister teaches there,” Castia evaded. “It would have been a bit awkward. Besides, it’s good to leave the nest, you know?”

Erin nodded:

“Yeah, I get you. So, want to be partners? I have a good feeling about you.”

“Thank god,” Castia groaned with relief. “I don’t know how to make friends. At least I know you.”

They talked a bit more while boarding the shuttle that was going to take them to their training ground. Each student received a compass and a map. Some of them were also given a coat, if they hadn’t dressed warmly enough. They were going to mountains, after all. Castia had long sleeves and several layers of clothes, so she was fine, but Erin was offered a military coat to wear. She refused, arguing it was summer, and Castia threw her a doubtful look. Her outfit consisted of a short white dress edged in blue, over black shorts and grey leggings. She also had a pale brown sleeveless coat, and wore armor on her arms and legs, but her shoulders were bare and her leggings weren’t very thick. Oh well, it was her funeral.

The fly wasn’t long. Most students were talking excitingly among themselves, trying to form partnerships, bragging about their training, planning alliances and strategy. But Castia was happy enough about her current partner. Erin had told her that her cousin had warned her that the alliances and plans formed during the trip would be useless. Students would be scattered across the training ground and all hell would broke loose. Their best chance was to try searching for each other and see where it would lead them. They were lucky it was the end of summer: it was sunny and there wasn’t much snow. Looking out of the window, Castia noticed that they were flying above a big pine forest. Oh, it would be funny if the teacher just dropped them here…

Indeed, professor Cole opened a side door with a rush of air, and yelled to be heard above the roar of wind:

“Well this is it! The rendezvous point is South of here, at the top of the waterfall you can see on that mountain. Now, I hope you all have a good landing strategy… Here we go! You, jump!”

And when the poor guy didn’t obey quickly enough, professor Bole shoved him out the door. Castia rolled her eyes. So dramatic. Some of the teenagers looked almost eager, but most of them seemed pretty horrified at the idea of being shoved out of an airplane in full flight. Well, sucked for them! What had they been taught at their primary combat school anyway? Jumping from high heights was exciting!

“Next!”

“Me!” yelled Castia, bouncing toward professor Bole. “And Erin is next!”

“I-I-I’m _what_ now?!” her partner stammered.

But Castia dragged her toward the door, only letting go of her wrist when she was just in front of professor Bole. He graciously took a step back to let her pass freely, and Castia threw herself out of the plane with a blast of power and a delighted shriek. Another explosion of purple light made her rocket up, and she turned just in time to see Erin jump out of the plane. Castia angled her body toward her, and another explosion propelled her in her direction faster than Erin was falling.

Erin, her pink hair and pale brown coat flailing up wildly behind her, and screaming like a banshee, had deployed the collapsible staff she had in her belt: she slammed it downward with both hands, generating a huge blast of air that curbed her fall. She probably had some Wind Dust bullets in there. Castia couldn’t help but be reminded of that old animated series she had loved in her old life, _Avatar the Last Airbender_. That move, with a staff no less? That was typical airbender!

But well, Erin probably didn’t have an infinite reserve of wind bullets, so Castia reached her and made another Telekinesis explosion bellow them to slow them down. She then resorted to her usual landing strategy: making explosive glyph-shieds that appeared one after the other like steps of a magical, gigantic and highly volatile staircase. Her staff still held in a white-knuckled grip, Erin jumped from glyph-shield to glyph-shield with her, each glyph pushing them up and forward like trampoline rather than a solid platform. When they reached the trees’ level, Castia made her last glyph disappear and both girls made a more or less controlled fall, jumping from trunk to trunk until they rolled on the ground.

Well, Castia jumped from trunk to trunk, and ended her course with a forward roll to cushion her impact against the pine-covered ground. Erin made some crazy acrobatic stunt where she rolled around a horizontal tree branch like it was a gymnastic bar, then jumped down and only used one other blast of wind from her staff to slow her down just before the impact.

“Nice,” approved Castia while brushing down some pine needles on her clothes.

Erin collapsed her staff back into his more transportable size, then put her hands on her knees and let out a wheezing laugh:

“Oh Gods, you can fly. _You can fly!_ I’m so glad I called dibs. I hate heights. You know what? From now on you’re in charge of everything height-related.”

“Seriously?” Castia laughed, eyes sparking mischievously. “Come on, it was fun!”

“In a horrifying, terrible, very not good way!” Erin immediately protested. “I’m on the firm opinion than human beings are made to stay on the ground. Holy cow. I need a minute. Well at least we are close to the waterfall.”

Damn, the waterfall. Castia had been so busy being thrilled by the fly (and focusing on catching Erin) that she hadn’t paid attention to their landing point. She needed to get better at multitasking. So she affected casualness, as if landing there had been her plan all along and not a fortunate coincidence. She just patted Erin on the back with sympathy until she got her breathing under control, then whipped out her compass, found the south, and they started walking in that direction.

“So your staff makes big blasts?” asked Castia to make conversation.

Erin light up, proudly taking out her staff, expanding it, and making it spin in her hand before presenting it to Castia. It wasn’t wood, as Castia had firstly believed, but dark brown metal. Once expanded, the sliding mechanisms were invisible.

“Yep! It’s called ‘Sebastian’. You know, it’s a staff, so a blunt weapon, no blades, nothing fancy… But I use Wind Dust to get more power behind some moves. Usually people don’t expect it! But it’s not strong enough to demolish a wall or anything like that. It can totally wreck a living room thought, which I’m just guessing because it absolutely hadn’t happened to me.”

Castia sniggered. There were tiny buttons on the side of the staff, and Erin pressed one after the other, making various small components pop out off the core. Some kind of magazine full of wind bullets, a small microphone and a megaphone that opened like a flower, a sighting telescope and a rifle’s trigger… That thing was basically a Swiss knife.

“Anyway,” Erin continued merrily, “Sebastian is actually three-quarter hollow, and it can be used as a sniper rifle. I’m a precision fighter. The huge blasts of wind are mostly useful to get me some space. The megaphone and microphone are for enhancing my Semblance, because it’s coming from my voice. So, what about you? I didn’t see use any weapon or support item! You fly all by yourself! Your Semblance is crazy powerful. You’re probably a tank or something!”

Well she wasn’t wrong. Castia shrugged and took Twin Twilight from the two holsters at her belt. She quickly demonstrated how her weapon worked, with the gun part and the sword part, then launched in a quick recap of her Semblance. Erin’s eyes were sparkling, and Castia puffed up a bit. Yeah, Telekinesis was pretty impressive.

“… And mostly I’m like a missile with two swords,” she achieved. “So yeah, ‘tank’ isn’t a bad description. You can be in charge of anything precision-related.”

Erin sniggered, and they continued chatting for a while. Well, a while… About ten minutes. It was enough time for them to gush about the last Vytal Festival (that they had both seen), to compare their hypothesis about what kind of token they were supposed to find at the waterfall, and share the kind of wild anecdote you only tell to make laugh people you are going to be stuck with for a very long time.

For example, Erin told her she had taken five years of circus training to be a great acrobat, but it also meant that she was a perfect juggler, and everyone in her family was pretending very hard it hadn’t happened. Sometimes when she was holding three or more similarly sized objects they would all shoot her the kind of warning glances typically reserved for cats who are about to swipe a fresh and crispy fish stick from a small child’s hand, and when she gazed wistfully at a basket of apples they all thought “ _Don’t you FUCKING dare_ ” so hard that she took psychic damage. It was hilarious and Castia was going to treasure the mental picture always.

For her part, Castia couldn’t juggle to save her life and her social circle was limited to Glynda, Amber and James, so she didn’t have any funny stories. But she had plenty of anecdotes from her beginnings at school, when she had been an awful brat. She had calmed down at Central, to try to live up to her sister’s image, but until them she had been a riot. There was that time when she had been five, for example. It was before anyone got their Semblance, because you needed to be at least six to unlock your Aura. Anyway, little Castia was bored, so she had forcefully shoved two big magnets together, held them really tightly in the palm of her hand and claimed she had magic power able to throw things in the sky… Which she demonstrated by opening her hands. Of course the magnets _shot off_ in two different directions (it was a miracle that nobody got hurt), one of them stuck to a drainpipe and the other stuck to a fence. Several kids had screamed and one parent had even called the headmistress to tell her that Castia had ‘traumatized her daughter by performing a terrifying magic trick’. Castia’s dad had found the whole thing hilarious, and when the headmistress of the school had asked what really happened, Castia had just said with her most bratty voice “ _I showed them a magnet and they flipped out. They’re not gonna be happy when they find out about gravity, either_.” Then six month later she unlocked her Aura and started developing her Semblance, and after that all of her teachers were very relieved to see her go to Central Combat School.

Erin was almost in tears when she finished her story-telling, so Castia considered it a success. Besides, she had delivered her conclusion just in time, because not even ten seconds later three Ursas barreled into the clearing they were crossing. Erin whipped out her staff, Castia brandished her blades, and they charged.

Castia took down the first Ursa in seconds, crashing into him and slipping under his claws while decapitating him. She blasted away the second one with her Semblance while Erin was busy dancing around the third. She really did have acrobatic training, it was obvious. She used her staff as a bat, as a perch, as a vaulting pole. It was both graceful and incredibly dynamic, lightning-quick dodges happening in the same move as vicious jabs and graceful twirls. Finally she slapped her staff between the Ursa’s ears so hard the skull cracked audibly, before somersaulting away and then bowing to the fallen Grimm like a performer saluting her audience.

Castia was suddenly awfully jealous of her easy grace. She wasn’t clumsy herself, and her aerial attacks didn’t lack elegance sometimes, but she was all about efficiency. She was brutal. Erin looked like she was dancing even when shattering enemies’ bones.

“You know, I could made us fly above the forest to go to the waterfall faster,” she offered, just to think about something else that her stupid jealousy.

Erin turned a bit green just at the thought of it.

“Thanks but no thanks. I would rather have the Ursas.”

Castia cast a doubtful look to the three fallen Ursas, that had already began to turn into black ash scattering into the wind. They hadn’t been big. She had shredded them in a few blows. But they were Grimm that didn’t fall so easily. Big Beowolves so massive that they didn’t seems to feel bullets. Or Boarbatusk with skin so thick blades didn’t pierce it. It was easy to get cocky after an easy kill. It was easy to be cocky, period, especially when you were good. And Castia was good. She was even a bit arrogant about it.

But she knew that Quicksilver’s speech hadn’t been for show. At Central school, there were teachers that just didn’t come back. She still remembered some weeks when Glynda had been unable to call them because she was on a mission in some far-away place, and Castia could barely eat, because dying was always a danger no matter how strong someone was.

“Alright,” she finally conceded. “We walk. But if there’s an emergency, I reserve myself the right to fly, as the specialist of any height-related issue.”

Erin shrugged: “Fine by me.”

Of course, it was at this exact moment that a piercing scream echoed in the forest. A feminine voice, horrified. Both girls looked at each other. A little voice inside of Castia’s head noted it was the perfect setting to advance to another Plot Point.

“Don’t you dare,” threatened Erin.

“That qualifies as an emergency!” Castia cheerfully replied.

And she blasted them in the air with an explosion of purple energy, rocketing toward the source of the scream.

**oOoOoOo**

Castia and Erin (well, mostly Castia, because Erin let out a high-pitched shriek when she was thrown in the air, and probably didn’t strategize much after that) completely thought that they were going to have to rescue someone. After all, it was the most obvious cliché in the world. A test of courage… A dark forest… Monsters to fight… And a victim’s scream to draw the brave heroes toward where they were needed. So yeah, they were totally expecting, oh, maybe a young girl (Castia really hoped she wasn’t the baby of the class again) surrounded by Beowolves or something like that. What they hadn’t expected was a guy with dark hair being carried bridal-style by a short girl with a fox tail, both screaming like demented goblins while sliding down an almost-vertical cliff, the girl’s feet sliding on the rock like it was a butter-covered skating rink.

Completely silent, Castia and Erin watched the weird duo reach a point where a rocky ridge jutted out like a natural ramp, and their momentum made them soar in the sky with an even more high-perched scream. They were flying… Flying toward Erin and Castia, who were themselves also flying… Really heading _straight toward them_ …

They impacted the ground a few meters away from them, making a huge trench in the dirt and ending up rolling to Castia’s feet in a jumble of arms and legs.

Far away from them, at the top of the cliff that those two idiots had slid down like some kind of toboggan, a dozen of Sabyrs appeared, growling and hissing furiously. Each of the saber-toothed Grimm was bigger than a horse. Castia suddenly understood why those two guys had chosen the cliff. Sabyrs were a bitch to fight on the ground. They were unbelievably quick and flexible, but also as strong a Beowolf. Adding to that the fact that they were coordinated predators who learned group strategies… Well. Castia would probably have avoided fighting them on top of a cliff too.

“Oh look,” the boy said from his position sprawled on the ground. “Two teammates! Fantastic. My job here is done.”

On his back was slung a sword as tall as him, and probably as wide as his entire torso. Castia wasn’t even sure the boy could go back up without help: that thing was probably weighting a ton. Otherwise, he was pretty average-looking. Short and messy black hair, dark blue eyes, straight features… He wasn’t very tall either. And he was dressed with dark colors, as if he didn’t want to attract attention to himself. He had black pants, a dark blue tunic, a slightly less dark vest, and a red scarf. Very fine clothing, like silk and velvet. Still, for a Hunstman, his outfit was pretty sensible. He also had brown leather boots and sturdy gloves, as well as a belt and a harness to carry his huge sword.

The girl with the fox tail, groaning, swatted at his head: “You didn’t do anything!”

“Precisely,” the guy answered proudly. “This is the height of efficiency.”

Fox-girl huffed then disentangled herself from her partner. She was short, with tanned skin, frizzy ginger hair, a round face, and doe-like amber eyes. She wore fingerless gloves, dark laced-up boot, brown pants, a wide leather belt, a cream top with a rough leather underbust corset (the whole get-up gave a distinctive pirate-like vibe), and a white vest on top of it. Her clothes had been mended in several places, as if she couldn’t afford new ones, but were good qualities. She wore a quiver at her belt but there was no bow in sight, only two bronze daggers with blades almost a foot long, whose handles were artistically sculpted to imitate a deer’s head.

“Hello!” she cheerfully greeted them. “We’re looking for teammates. Are you free?”

Erin snorted, and trust out her hand: “Well, I guess so. I’m Erin Ebi and this is Castia Goodwitch. Hi. Welcome to the team.”

“Hi! I’m Laura, Laura Tangerine!”

“And I’m Peter Marengo,” the back-haired boy introduced himself.

He went back up to his feet as if his sword was weighting nothing. As if his whole body was weighting nothing, actually. A slight push and he rose, as if the air was supporting him… No, that wasn’t right. In slow motion, it almost looked like he had pushed himself up from the bottom of a pool…

“Ha!” Castia understood. “You can control gravity, right?”

Peter shot her a surprised look, but grinned:

“Yes, that’s my Semblance. It can come in handy. There would be no way for me to use my sword without that.”

Castia nodded. She also remembered James Ironwood telling her that there was a candidate that controlled gravity. It was probably Peter. Seriously, what were the odds of running into him? Right in the middle of the initiation, where they choose their teammates! That was a sign; there was no doubt about it.

“I can control friction,” offered Laura, dusting her clothes (dust didn’t seem to stick to her at all). “Basically I can slide or stick to things very easily, like you saw with our wild ride down the cliff back there.”

“So we basically are The Duo Who Was Born To Break The Laws Of Physics,” Peter added with a smirk.

“I like it,” Castia laughed while Laura rolled her eyes with an amused smile, her fox tail twitching. “Well my Semblance is Telekinesis, so basically I can manipulate objects and unleash big explosions of energy. And Erin…”

She turned to the pink-haired girl, who seemed uncomfortable for half a second before squaring her shoulders and declaring brightly:

“Vocal Hypnotism. When I sing, I can hypnotize people: put them to sleep, made them trust me, calm them down. It’s not mind-control, it’s more a power of suggestion. Not very useful against Grimm, thought.”

Castia digested that. _Hypnotism_. Cool. Alright, it was either a bit creepy or _completely Disney princess worthy_ , but it wasn’t her place to judge, was it? People didn’t choose the power they were born with. Castia would know. And besides, it could be dead useful against criminals, to make them surrender peacefully. So she swallowed it, breathed, and said with the most deadpan face:

“Grimm really have no artistic appreciation.”

There was maybe a hint of relief in Erin’s eyes when she turned to her with a big grin:

“Yeah, that’s for sure! My talents are wasted on them.”

They suddenly heard a roar in the distance. When they turned, the Sabyrs had started climbing down the cliff. It was hard: apparently there wasn’t much of a path. One of them had fallen twenty meters down on the rocky ridge that Laura and Peter had used as a launching pad earlier. It was getting back slowly, like it hurt. A normal animal would have had its ribs broken, but not a Sabyr. Even at this distance, it seemed to glare angrily in the teenagers’ direction. Castia quickly counted the Grimm. One, two, four seven… There were at least a dozen. She had never fought that many of that level of dangerousness before. She could take them, _maybe_ , but… Not without some collateral damage.

“I vote we get the hell out of here,” announced Peter to no one in particular.

“Seconded,” immediately said Erin. “Come on, the waterfall is that way.”

“We would go quicker if we…” Castia started hopefully.

“No flying!”

“Killjoy,” she muttered.

They went through the forest, following Erin’s directions. Peter and Laura walked on the ground, him effortlessly jumping over obstacles and her sliding on any surface as if she was wearing rollers, but Erin and Castia quickly started making their way by the trees… Kind of Naruto-style, actually. They jumped from branch to branch, Erin with acrobatics pirouettes and Castia with Telekinesis to propel her like an invisible trampoline at each leap. Of course, it was practical and gave them the high ground in case of an attack, but it was also pretty cool. They could keep an eye on their surrounding, but stayed close enough to warn the others if they saw danger coming. It was also a good occasion to make small talk. Erin, at least, couldn’t seem to stop herself. That girl was a real chatterbox.

Laura wasn’t as talkative. She didn’t reveal any real personal stuff. She happily volunteered information about her Semblance and abilities, but grew a bit terse and changed the subject when asked about her family. Her tail flapped from right to left like an annoyed cat’s. Erin managed to make her mutter that she had been born in Vacuo but had lived in Mantle for most of her life, but that was it. When Castia asked about her weapons, she sharply retorted that they were an heirloom. Apparently the daggers could turn into two small scythes or assemble into a bow (which explained the quiver at her belt). But she didn’t give the name of the weapons or offered to demonstrate, just clutched them protectively, as if afraid someone was going to stole them. Castia figured she was wary because she was a Faunus. In Atlas, discrimination was a real problem. But nobody commented on her fox tail, or asked insensitive questions, so she would probably relax… In time.

Peter was more at ease. He was from a rich family of artists in Mistral, but he had no talents for painting, singing, or writing. His passions were mechanics and chemistry. He had applied to Beacon Academy too, but Atlas Academy had offered him a possible contract with the Research and Development Department, so he had picked Atlas. He wasn’t close with his family. He didn’t like sports, but was a good fighter. He always had a handful of home-made grenades on him, which Castia felt like it was going to be relevant information, and he had made the plans for his sword himself. It was more than a simple sword, because it could divide in two sections to become a railgun. Kind of like a canon, but with magnetism instead of explosives.

They ran into one big Ursa that Castia crushed without any issue, and then a trio of Beowolves that Laura, Peter and Erin took down. They worked well together. Laura was nimble and slippery, as well as very vicious in her attacks. She didn’t use swordsmanship like Peter, acrobatic moves like Erin or even boxing-like punches like Castia: she was a brawler, pure and simple. A fierce, brutal and slippery brawler, who fought like a cornered cat… Or rather, a cornered fox. It was clear that she had learned to fight outside of a primary combat school. She fought like someone used to be smaller and weaker than her opponents. Peter was the opposite: with his big ass sword, he wasn’t the puny one, not even against a Beowolf. He raised his sword like it weighted nothing but when he slammed it down, it went thought flesh and bones like it was butter. He never gave an inch of ground. Sometimes, a Grimm brushed his hand and suddenly became clumsy for a second, as if heavier than usual. Peter was using his Semblance to its full potential. Even when he moved! Sometimes he jumped way too high or too far for a normal human being. Castia did that too, to jump high or go fast, but there was always a flash of purple light (even if faint) when she used Telekinesis. Peter’s Gravity Control was totally invisible.

None of them were was efficient as Castia with her Semblance unleashed… Not, that wasn’t right. None of them were as _destructive_ as her with her Semblance unleashed. Without being arrogant, Castia knew she was the better fighter. Erin and her staff, Laura and her daggers, even Peter and his gigantic sword… They didn’t have her sheer resilience. They attacked and retreated. They saved their energy. Castia was stronger, more durable. She wasn’t as slippery as Laura, or as agile as Erin, or as well-grounded as Peter. But she was stronger.

When you fight alone, which Castia had done for almost all of her life, it’s hard to compare your fighting style with another. It was thanks to James Ironwood that Castia had managed to clearly articulate what were her strengths and her weaknesses. Mostly because her style and James’ were very similar, and looking at it from an outsider point of view brought on new insight. She was a tank that emphasized on strength in her attacks, implementing boxing moves but also being agile and advancing with ease thought changing terrain. She could attack from a longer distance away with Twin Twilight, but she preferred to get in close and pummel and/or tear apart her opponents. James had the same way of fighting. But she had a major weakness that James _hadn’t_ , that none of her teammate had, which was _the sheer amount of collateral damages_ she did if left unchecked. She was kind of a bulldozer. She lacked versatility, she relied on brute force. That was the big drawback of learning to fighting alone. She never really worked on her control in a combat setting. If she hadn’t skipped two grades… If she had managed to make friends at the primary combat school… If she hadn’t spent so much time in one-on-one tournaments… If Glynda had taught her to fight, or even just watched her fight, or just advised her…! But it was too late for that. Castia could just take note of the end result. She was too brutal. Erin didn’t even break a twig while she was jumping around and pummeling her enemy with her staff!

That was going to be an issue. Then Castia thought that maybe she was going a bit too fast, and she should focus on getting the token and coming back to the rendezvous point before starting to analyze the potential weakness of their matchup. They hadn’t come across other Grimm, but they were barely at the edge of the forest…

“I can hear the waterfall!” Erin exclaimed.

“We’re probably pretty close,” grinned Laura. “Damn, I wonder if they have food with those tokens…”

“How can you think about eating?” Peter said incredulously.

“How can you _not_?!”

“I’m with Laura on that one,” Castia jumped. “I barely ate breakfast.”

“Stressed?” commiserated Erin. “Me too, but I’m a stress-eater. I eat like four people. This morning, my cousin had to get me out of the cereal box with crowbar.”

Castia sniggered. Erin was so slim, you wouldn’t have guessed it. But the mental image was pretty hilarious.

“I do the same thing before school exams,” Peter smirked. “There is always so much stress, I ransack all of the kitchen’s cupboard.”

Laura snorted: “You stress for _school_? What am I saying, of course you stress for school. You’re probably a straight-A student and a teacher’s pet.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“Well no,” Castia butted in. “But school is boring. I really don’t see the point of putting yourself under pressure for grades.”

Laura nodded in agreement. Peter looked indignant, and he pointed a threatening finger at them:

“You better take your school work seriously for now on. I won’t be associated with a bunch of duffer!”

The three girls looked at each other. Then Erin moaned:

“But it’s so mind-numbing! Who need Mistrali literature analysis in life? I once fell asleep in the middle of a lecture!”

“That’s nothing,” interjected Castia who didn’t want to be left out. “I wrote my literature final exam in haiku because I was so bored my other option was to jump out of a window.”

“Well,” Laura said slowly. “I did most of my work for my last year on a single piece of paper I’d just fold up and stick back in my pocket out of general laziness and my lack of need for notes. My math teacher kept poking fun at it, so it led to an escalating war of attrition that ended when I handed in a test written on a corn tortilla.”

There was a respectful silence while all of them reevaluated Laura’s chaotic potential. Peter looked like someone who was reconsidering his life choices. Then Laura’s stomach growled, Castia feel a reflexive pang of hunger, and Erin sighed:

“Actually, eating something would be nice. Maybe ribs! With sweet potatoes, fresh cream, sweet pepper and curry sauce! And peanuts on top!”

“Barbarian,” muttered Peter with some kind of horrified fascination.

“Argh, I’m even hungrier now,” Castia swore. “Stop talking!”

“And banana ice-cream for dessert,” Erin continued mischievously. “And then chocolate cake with custard cream… And strawberries…”

“I hate you,” Castia muttered darkly. “May all your teeth fall out except one, and in that one you should get a tooth ache.”

It was something she had heard Amber said once. Laura roared with laughter, and even Peter let out a surprised snort. Erin opened her mouth to let out an indignant protested, but they walked out of the forest, and her protest turned into a dismayed squawk because the ground was stopping abruptly before another cliff. She almost fell down the ravine, and Castia grappled her with Telekinesis just in time. Erin was suspended in the air for half a second before being pushed back and falling on her butt.

“Ow,” she muttered.

There was a short silence while they looked down, then Castia turned around, and blinked. She had thought that the waterfall’s noise was getting stronger…

“Well, on the plus side we’re almost there.”

“But on the wrong mountain,” helpfully pointed out Peter.

“Would you stop being such a pessimist?”

It was true. They were on one mountainside, where the edge of the forest turned into a very long, very steep and very rocky cliff, going down maybe four hundred meters until the bottom of a gorge where a small river was flowing. On the other side of the river was another rocky hillside, higher and more abrupt that the one they came from. And above them, to their right, coming from a rocky outcrop and falling straight into the river, was the famous waterfall.

“Do you think the token are at the top or the bottom of the waterfall?” seriously asked Erin, craning her neck to try and see the exact place where the water fell into the river.

“I vote for the top,” said Peter, frowning. “But climbing down and then climbing up isn’t going to be easy. And trying to jump over the gorge… I don’t think I can make that jump, even with my Semblance.”

Castia was already mentally calculating her odds. She wasn’t very experienced in flying with other people, but she could try. The problem was, the more powerful she was, the less accurate her aim was. She had the perfect balance between power and precision when she flew, but if she had to put more power into her Telekinesis to carry three more people… Well, it was going to be a rocky ride. They had about thirty percent of chance of crashing right below their intended landing point. And she had more than fifty percent chance to lose someone in full flight! Unless they jumped one after the other? Still, she opened her mouth to offer the idea to the group…

Behind them, there was a growl.

They turned like one man and all took a reflexive step back. _The Sabyrs had followed them_. They had spread out in a semi-circle, completely surrounding them. Most of the gigantic feline Grimm were still hidden by the forest’s shadows, their glowing red eyes the only thing betraying their presence, but four Sabyrs had prowled closer. They were barely fifteen meters away. They could cross that distance in a single jump. _Fuck_. Castia’s mind was running like a hamster in a wheel. Alone, she could outrun them. With a team, not so much. If she tried to make them fly anyway, the Sabyrs would jump and catch them mid air, they were fast enough… Gods damn it!

“Peter,” Erin whispered nervously. “You’re the slowest, you should…”

She didn’t have time to explain what he should do. The Sabyrs’ patience had reached its end. With a roar, they lunged.

**oOoOoOo**

When attacked by a hundred-pounds killing machine, your choices were limited. It came down to reflexes, the fight or flight response. Well, technically, there were three reflexes: _fight, flight,_ and _freeze_ , but the instinct to stay frozen like a deer in the headlight was beaten out of the students’ skulls in their first year of primary combat school. Sure, they could freeze when witnessing a person dying, when someone confessed their eternal love to them, or when the local shop was out of potatoes chips. _Not_ when a Grimm was leaping at them to tear their head off. So it came down to two options: run away or stand your ground. Sometimes it was better to run: because the fight wasn’t worth it, because the ground was unstable, because your movements were too restricted, because you were outnumbered… But sometime it was better to fight. Like when you had no choice. Like right now.

They had the void at their back. They could jump, but the Sabyrs would jump after them. They could climb down, but they would be slow, and being slow was basically being a sitting duck when faced with an awfully fast Grimm. Castia could made a huge blast with Telekinesis but something strong enough to knock back several Sabyrs was going to make their promontory explode, as well as knock out her teammates. They were trapped, they had no choice. Castia would have liked to say that she thought rationally about those things before throwing herself into the fray, but it would have been a lie. The truth was that the instant the Sabyr attacked, everything besides the fight vanished from her mind. She grinned almost feraly, and met the first Grimm head on.

She shot it point bank and wiped out her blade in the next second to swipe at a second Sabyr, nearly taking its head off. One of her blade tore into the side of its neck but the other ripped on its black fur with a grinding sound, as if… Oh yeah the fur was frozen solid, Sabyrs generated cold, she had forgotten that. The Grimm retreated with a hiss. It would take more than one hit to take it down, and the other Sabyr she had shot was getting back up too…

There was no time to think: Castia’s heart was already beating wildly with exhilaration and fear. Erin, Laura and Peter had moved to give each other space, but they were still trapped by the edge of the cliff. Castia charged straight up into the pack of monsters, with a surge of power that blasted the Sabyr away and even made a tree fall down. Laura almost lost her balance, but she managed to stay stuck to the ground: Castia saw it from the corner of her eyes, glancing fearfully behind to be sure she hadn’t been too forceful… Then she charged at the Grimm. One Sabyr was already on her, and they collided like two cannonball.

Blood splashed her, the Grimm fell: she was already on the next one in a flash of purple light.

It was there, now, that she felt the most alive: bulldozing through all the obstacles that appeared in front of her like a bloodthirsty tornado. She punched, pushed, riposted, jumped on glyphs, exploded them, slingshot herself in the sky to rain gunfire on her enemies. Hit, strike, riposte, gunfire, strike of her blade, explosion; everything was happening at lightning speed and her body reacted even before her mind did. It was that kind of adrenaline-induced high where everything was at the same time crystal clear and too fast to see. Castia pummeled another Sabyr, shredding it on her blades, then avoided by a hair a snap of jaws as big as her entire torso. From the corner of her eyes she saw Peter cleave a Sabyr in half with one blow and Laura slide between another’s paws to gut it like a fish, while Erin was savagely beating up a two monsters at once… But then another Sabyr threw itself at her and Castia turned away to pummel this one. She wasn’t even done when a new Grimm jumped, and she writhed instinctively, narrowly avoiding getting a hundred-pound monster in the face. She blasted the Grimm in the sky with Telekinesis, threw herself on to the next Sabyr and impaled it on her blade with all of her Semblance’s strength behind the hit, rocketed in the air to intercept the falling and furious Grimm she had hurled up there a second ago, battled furiously with its claws in freefall, killed it, fell back, caught herself with another Telekinesis blast just before impacting the ground, saw movement behind her, turned away with a swipe of her blades, _SHIT_ _that wasn’t a Grimm_! She vaulted back to avoid shredding Laura to pieces… Not missing a beat, Laura threw herself down, and her momentum made her slid right between Castia’s legs, putting her safely behind the young Huntress… and leaving the Grimm who was chasing her to face down the blades of Twin Twilight.

Castia let go of the handles and _pushed_. Propelled by her Telekinesis like arrows, the two blades shot at the Grimm and cleaved it in half, then slowed down as if nearing the end of an invisible rubber rope, before shooting back to Castia’s hand. The impact against her palms stung a bit, but hey, it was the price to pay for such a cool move. The dead Grimm fell down limply, and Castia whipped her head right then left, looking for the next enemy…

There was no Sabyr left. Slowly, she lowered her blades. Erin was still standing. So was Peter. And when Castia turned, Laura was getting up, dusting her clothes off. Castia exhaled, swiped her swords to make the blood fall of, then retracted the blades and re-holstered Twin Twilight.

“So, that was a thing,” she said cheerfully.

“Gross,” muttered Peter, whose dark tunic was speckled with Grimm blood.

“Kind of cool, right?” Erin panted, grinning from ears to ears.

“I was like eighty-percent sure we were all gonna die to be honest,” Laura chirped in with good cheer.

Peter snorted and re-sheltered his big sword, before casually throwing at Castia:

“Very impressive display. Do you often run head on in the maws of vicious animals?”

“Hey,” she protested, “I had it handled.”

“I know, I meant no offense. I’m just a bit taken aback by your total lack of hesitation. It was like, one second there were Sabyr everywhere, the next you had impacted the pack like a living wrecking ball.”

Mollified, Castia shrugged. Truth was, with her Semblance she didn’t really fought on the same scale at them. Toss her a griffin or two and there she would hesitate, those things were huge. But Sabyrs… Sure, it wasn’t small fry. If she had been alone, she would certainly have been hurt, and a lot more afraid. But it was still within her league.

“Well,” she smirked. “You know the saying… He who hesitates,” she snapped her fingers, “disintegrates.”

Laura sniggered, as did Erin.

“I didn’t know this saying,” Peter said slowly. “But I think that’s from now on, I’ll keep it in mind.”

They turned back toward the waterfall, just in time to see four small silhouettes jump away from it, leaving toward the rendezvous point.

“Crap!” swore Laura. “They got a token already!”

“They watched us fight and didn’t even offer a hand?” Erin said indignantly. “What a bunch of cowards! They don’t deserve to be Huntsmen!”

“Well, we didn’t really need them,” Peter remarked.

“That’s not the point! It’s a matter of principles!”

Castia shrugged. Actually, she thought that Erin was way too incensed about that? If she had seen someone fight and _win_ against a big group of Grimm, she would have observed too, without necessarily intervening. It was the kind of thing where playing hero led to hinder the other guy, leading to more confusion, and maybe (in a worst case scenario) injuries or death. Being helpful was good, being nosy was stupid. Interfering in Castia’s fights definitely fell under the ‘nosy’ category. But she had a feeling her opinion wouldn’t be appreciated, so she just pointed:

“So, are we crossing the river or not? Because I’m pretty sure I could catapult you one by one…”

“Sounds fun!” immediately exclaimed Laura.

“That could be interesting,” Peter said with a calculating glint in his eyes.

“Absolutely not!” Erin squeaked.

She was outvoted. And so their team soared through the sky, not quite reaching the designated landing point, but still crossing the gorge without having to climb its walls. They had to trek for a little while between rocky landslides and wild bushes to get to the top of the waterfall, but they saw no Grimm besides the smoking carcass of a Centipede, already turning to ashes. Apparently they weren’t’ the first team to get there.

They didn’t try to make any more small talk. Oh, there weren’t’ scared: if anything, their victory over the Sabyrs had boosted their confidence. But they stayed on their guard. Even Laura, who almost had a bounce to her step now. She was radiating pride and happiness. Hadn’t she fought Grimm before? Castia didn’t know. Obviously, she herself had fought Grimm: they had killed small fry, like a Bettle Grimm or a small Ursa, in her primary Combat School, but she had also run against simulations in different tournaments. And of course, James Ironwood had taken her to fight Beowolves. She owned him big time.

So she was pretty confident in her abilities. Erin was, too. It was obvious in the way she moved, in her unwaveringly cheerful attitude: she knew what she was doing. Laura and Peter… Castia wasn’t so sure. Peter was pretty calm but he didn’t have the perfect efficiency in his movements that Erin had. His style was pretty by the book. It was like he had always trained pretty much alone, like Castia, but without ever having to adapt his fighting style to new situations. Castia couldn’t exactly put her finger on what was weird. His stances were great, his strikes were powerful, his balance was excellent. It was just so… Normal. Robotic, almost. It lacked fluidity.

Laura was the complete opposite: she didn’t have a style. She didn’t follow any rules; she just tore apart wildly anything in her way and used everything she could in her environments. She was good fighter, but she was clearly missing some of the teachings of a primary combat school.

Castia wasn’t racist, or at least she really tried not to be, but… A Faunus fighter that good, but not affiliated to a combat school, could be affiliated to the White Fang. Or, well, whatever the preeminent terrorist movement was, because the White Fang wasn’t really known yet (and wouldn’t be for a good ten years, at least). She cast a quick look in Laura’s direction. She didn’t seem like the type, with her big smile and friendly attitude, but well… It could be possible. After all, she was kind of secretive. Maybe a runaway, like Blake Belladona had been in the canon story? Not very original, but it could happen… And besides, was it even Castia’s business? Unless Laura actively was a terrorist (which was pure conjecture, only supported by interiorized prejudice) then it wasn’t her business where she had come from. Even if that place was the White Fang.

Like everything she had encountered on Remnant, Castia had once tried to look at the White Fang from the perspective of Earth. Were they like any civil rights group, in the United States? Perhaps they started off like anti-apartheid protestors, and it just kept getting more and more violent? Castia naively thought that if she looked hard enough, she could try to figure out how it had all gone wrong. Sure, the leadership could be blamed to an extent (she clearly remembered that Adam Taurus been a violent asshole) but that didn’t explain how swiftly the organization had gained ferocity, how even the common members seemed perfectly okay with the idea of simply _exterminating_ the humans. It was wild.

But Castia had never found out. The Faunus Right Movement wasn’t very well documented, and the White Fang didn’t really exist yet, so nothing she read gave her any answer. After a while, she had simply given up to focus on other things, like astronomy and hand-to-hand combat. Honestly, she just didn’t know how to explain it. The White Fang had always had an edge of violence to it, but the extremism was… Well, not coming of nowhere, but… Impossible to explain. Castia could have said that it was just the cycle of violence, but frankly it left a bitter taste in her mouth. A single change from _oppressed_ to _terrorist_ didn’t signify a continuous cycle. It was a dangerous mindset to get in. So yeah, Castia didn’t know what to think about the White Fang. In any case, she had nothing that could justify thinking that Laura was part of it, besides her clear experience with _fighting_ and her clear inexperience in _fighting Grimm_.

But let’s move on. It wasn’t fair to start being suspicious of Laura because of her fighting skills. If anything, Peter was the weird one. He was good at it, but he clearly lacked experience in fighting, period. It was almost as if he had learned from books and not from teachers. He lacked experience, plain and simple. And what kind of prospective Huntsman doesn’t have that experience?

Honestly, if Erin (pink-haired chatterbox with a knack for somersaulting) and herself (the reincarnated weirdo with powers of mass destruction) were the normal ones, Castia was going to have a good laugh.

They didn’t see any more Sabyrs, or any more anything, really. They weren’t the first ones to get here, and it became obvious when they reached the top of the waterfall. On the rocky ridge where a small stream fell down a hundred meters into the river below, there was natural platform where someone had placed ten columns as pedestals, each marked with a symbol and supporting a small flag. Three pedestals were empty: the one bearing the emblem of the sun, the one with a stylized tornado, and the one with a lightning bolt. Castia looked to the other symbols. Moon, clouds, stars, rain… You were really feeling the wholly sky theme around here. Then her eye fell on a black flag with a weird design: a white circle, three-quarter filled with black, one quarter full of radiant patches of white, as if the ring’s color was spilling inside. She squinted, wondering what it was. Erin followed her eyes and brightened:

“Oh, what about that one? It’s an eclipse!”

Oooh. An eclipse with a shattered moon, alright. Gotcha. Well, why not? Nobody protested, so Erin took the small flag from its pedestal and made it spin around her hands.

“Yeah, I like it,” Castia approved.

And the emblem was kind of pretty. Castia could maybe alter it and use a modified version as her personal crest, since she didn’t have one. Well, she still wore the Goodwitch’s symbol (a tiara with stars) embroiled at the edge of her short purple jacket, but it blended in the silvery wave motif edging the whole garment. It was by design. She didn’t want to give it up, but she also wanted to distance herself from it. The tiara was Glynda’s emblem, and she needed her own.

Everyone had a personal crest. Some were family’s emblem: like Glynda’s, for example, or (later, in the canon story) Weiss Schnee or Ruby Rose. Other had personal symbols. James Ironwood, for example, had an intricate vine design, almost floral, on his guns’ sides. Amber had a brooch with an orange sun circled in gold. Erin had hers etched in her shin guards: it was a staff with a swirl of wind around it that almost made it look like a musical treble clef. Laura’s crest was a flame looking like fox tail, or a fox tail looking like a flame, and was stitched to the side of her orange pirate-like underbust corset. Finally, Peter had a grey horse’s head, sewed on his breast pocket, and since it didn’t seems very personalized (unless he liked horses?), Castia was going to assume it was a family crest.

“Then it’s decided,” Erin exclaimed. “Let’s go home everyone!”

“By flying?”

“No!”

So they didn’t fly, but they had a great time. They didn’t encounter more Sabyrs, but they did cross path with a bunch of Beowolves. Castia bulldozed through them to break up their ranks, and the others picked them up one by one. Well, Erin picked them one by one. Laura and Peter teamed up. They worked well together, apart from their unconventional styles. Peter compensated for Laura’s lack of method and she compensated for his lack of versatility. Castia had a feeling it was fate that had threw those two together. They were a good duo. _Born To Break the Laws Of Physic_ , eh?

Oh well, she was pretty ok with this team. They were all friendly, just weird enough to not be boring (which was a basic requirement to hang out with her), and good fighters. She still felt nervous about being on a team, because historically she had _never_ gotten along with people her own age, but… Well, they were seventeen. Maybe she could relate to them, or rather, maybe they could relate to her. They weren’t little kids. They still were teenagers, true, but older teenagers, trained and (hopefully) mature. It wasn’t the same as when she was in primary combat school, boiling like an over-heated kettle over how stupid people were because she felt like she was speaking another language, or slowly dying of boredom.

They were in this together, for better or for worse.

They went back to the rendezvous point, where a chopper was waiting for them and took them back to Atlas Academy. Initiation was over. In the great hall where headmistress Quicksilver had made her speech, there were now big tables with drinks and sandwiches. Not quite a party, but enough that people were starting to relax, to laugh, to eat, to get their strength back. Students trickled in by groups of four, and clustered around the tables. Some collapsed on chairs with an exhausted groan, while other wolfed down appetizers like they were starving. Some teams weren’t complete, and just three or even two people came back, looking worse for wear. By word of mouth, Castia leaned that some people had been injured and were sent to the infirmary. Others students had been send home, not having made the cut. Initiation was hard, after all.

Finally, when everyone had came back (and that the injured ones, patched up, had joined their friends), headmistress Quicksilver took the floor. It was now pretty late. Castia couldn’t believe the day had passed so fast. She looked around for James Ironwood, but this time neither him nor vice-headmaster Foggy were with Quicksilver. With a benevolent smile, the headmistress clapped. Everyone turned toward her, and conversations slowly died out.

“Congratulations to all of you,” she exclaimed. “I’m pleased to announce that this year, nobody has died during initiation!”

Oh well, _that_ was reassuring… Someone let out a strangled laugh in the audience, but Quicksilver ignored it and continued:

“It is now time to announce team placement. Please step forward when your name will be called…”

She started with the four people who had retrieved the lightning bolt flag, who were codenamed Team GRAY. They had been the first ones to the waterfall, having all landed pretty close. Then there were those who had retrieved the tornado flag, who were codenamed Team PRSM (pronounced ‘prism’). After then was the four who had retrieved the sun flag, who were codenamed Team GLDN (pronounced ‘golden’). And the fourth team was…

“Erin Ebi. Castia Goodwitch. Laura Tangerine. Peter Marengo. You retrieved the flag bearing the symbol of the eclipse. From now one, you will form the Team ECLP, which will be led by Miss Ebi.”

Erin beamed. For a fraction of second Castia was torn between relief (thank gods it wasn’t her, she had no idea how to lead!) and annoyance (she was stronger, she should have been leader!), but the joy of having finished with this damn initiation won out. She congratulated her new friend, as did Laura and Peter. Headmistress Quicksilver continued with the team announcements, and they got back to their places.

“So… Team Eclipse, uh?” smiled Laura.

“It’s a good name,” approved Peter.

“Damn right!” Erin bounced excitedly.

“Yeah,” Castia smiled. “I have a good feeling about this team.”

She was a student of Atlas Academy now. She had a team. She had teammates that would maybe become her friends. It was a new beginning.

And she was ready for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it !
> 
> Erin Ebi is an OC based on the Little Mermaid, from Andersen's fairy tale. Her staff is named Sebastian, like the crab in the Disney movie "the Little Mermaid" =)  
> Laura Tangerine and Peter Marengo are a genderbent version of "The Lady and The Tramp", from the Disney movie, while also being the Fox and the Hound from the _other_ Disney Movie. Laura is the tomboyish Fox-Tramp, Peter is the fancy Hound-Lady.
> 
> Their names all follow the color-naming rule ! _Erin_ is a shade of blue, _Tangerine_ is a shade of orange, and _Marengo_ is a shade of gray.
> 
> Funny thing : the magnet story and the tortilla story both come from Tumblr. Sometimes i see hilarious shit on my dash and i keep it. 
> 
> I made some aesthetics for my Team ECLP !  
> Here is Erin : https://i15.servimg.com/u/f15/14/74/72/16/rwby_e10.png  
> Here is Castia : https://i15.servimg.com/u/f15/14/74/72/16/rwby_c10.jpg  
> Here is Laura : https://i15.servimg.com/u/f15/14/74/72/16/rwby_l10.png  
> Here is Peter : https://i15.servimg.com/u/f15/14/74/72/16/rwby_p10.png


	6. Making friends, making home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life of Castia Goodwich, age sixteen at Atlas Academy. Some more worldbuilding, new characters, and the plot is moving up!

Academy training took three to four years. At Beacon Academy, the four years were mandatory, but brilliant Huntsmen could exceptionally skip one year and graduate at twenty years old. It was what had happened to Team STRQ, and to Glynda (but not to her team). The system was the same in Mistral. But Atlas and Vacuo had the opposite: three years of schooling were mandatory, and the fourth was only an elective. It was less training-heavy, and focused more on university-level classes (economy, politics, law, mechanics…). Two third of the students’ time had to be dedicated to missions, as it was their duty as full trained warriors, but the Academy evaluated their results, taking them in account for their final grades. It was kind of a work-study contract. Students had no obligation to take it, of course… Unless they were hoping to enlist in the military. Then this fourth class was mandatory, and their grades were part of their qualification exam.

Military was a big thing here. Every country had an army, but they were more like some sort of National Guard than anything. When wars were fought, warriors came in all shapes and forms: Huntsmen, mercenaries, private contractors… Atlas was the only country to have a big military, because it was the only realm whose culture had actively encouraged (for at last two centuries) uniformity over individuality. Army needed _unity_ , a unity that soldiers could only achieve by giving up part of their distinctiveness. Soldiers didn’t wear personal crests, for example, or carry customized weapons. It was something that couldn’t be implemented in others country, as people weren’t as… disciplined, or as quick to completely blend into something bigger than themselves.

Anyway. Most of Atlas’ soldiers hadn’t unlocked their Aura and so didn’t have Semblance, but they were trained and well armed. They could (and often did) support Huntsmen in fights, or even defend the city themselves against a Grimm attack. Still, no Semblance meant no superpowers, and that was why military recruited Huntsmen. They had a special rank, “Specialist”, which gave them more or less the authority of a sergeant. They were still Huntsmen and had to follow the same rules: take missions from the Huntsmen rooster, obey the Council, accept jobs for money… But they were also part of the army. They had to be loyal to their country (while Huntsmen had to defend humankind regardless of allegiance). They had to wear uniforms, even if they could customize them. They stopped ostensibly wearing personal crests, unless it could blend in their outfit, and some Specialist gave them up entirely. They had to obey officers and respect the hierarchy. They had to behave themselves correctly to preserve the image of the military, or face repercussions. But they were still Huntsmen, and so they were granted more freedom than a common soldier. For example, if an order contradicted the Huntsmen Code, they could defy it and not being punished for desertion later on.

Huntsmen had a good place in Atlas’ military, actually. They already started as officers! And they could get a higher rank, of course (James Ironwood was a good example, having being promoted commander), but they already started pretty high. And after all… Why not? They were worth ten normal fighters! They were trained to take charge! Besides, Huntsmen were more intuitive, more resilient… They were _made_ to fight Grimm. Now that the last war had ended, the main enemy was those creatures, and so it was completely normal to try and merge Atlas’s army with the force of those who dedicated their lives to fighting the Grimm. In the last fifty years, the military and Atlas Academy had gotten closer and closer. They had shared missions, shared information, and they even had shared resources. But they were still two distinct bodies, neither having authority on the other.

Castia already knew that, of course (benefits of having pestered James Ironwood for six months for any relevant information), but she still managed to pretend to pay attention to their introductory class. It was more than what her neighbors did, anyway. Erin was napping on her crossed arms and Laura was apparently doodling a rendition of their fight against the Sabyrs. Peter, goody-two-shoes that he was, seemed to be the only one focused on their teacher’s lesson.

Team ECLP had gotten school uniforms and settled into the dorms last night. They had one room all with steel furniture and pale grey walls, with big bunk beds that looked like they came straight from a space station. The uniforms were grey too. It was boring as fuck and even a bit depressing. Erin had added big blue earrings and blue-green bracelets to her outfit to be more colorful (not that she needed it, with her pink hair!). Laura had immediately started sewing her crest to her vest’s shoulder, and switched her white shoes for warm brown leather boots. Peter had just put his red scarf with his uniform and called it good enough. Castia, for her part, had decided to wear her brown boots and switch the white jacket for her purple one. She also started working on her personal crest: the eclipse symbol, white on a dark background, with rays of light going upward and making it look like a crown.

Then, they had spent the whole evening ordering online new cushions (red, orange and yellow), new bed sheets (blue and cream), new curtains (sunset-themed), some rugs (very fluffy) and a wide choice of paint and brushes to customize their furniture. Erin had even texted her sisters so they could bring some stuff from her home, such a new closet’s door and several bedsides lamps. Neither Laura or Peter had texted anyone to tell them about their successful initiation, which Castia hadn’t missed. Well, she didn’t really have ground to talk. She had sent a message to her father, as well as to Amber and to Ironwood, but she had consciously stayed away from Glynda’s Scroll’s number. Having family troubles wasn’t rare, apparently.

At least she could count on her friends. Amber had replied with a sting of clapping emojis, before launching in a recounting of her own initiation. James had simply congratulated her, adding that he had never doubted her success… And also warning her to be a model student and to pay attention in class. Pfff. He was really taking his job too seriously.

Finally, the bell rang. Brutally woken up, Erin sprang upright with wide eyes like a frightened rabbit. Laura sniggered, and Peter rolled her eyes, studiously taking notes while their teacher assigned homework. Castia smirked, packing up her notebook:

“Enjoyed your nap?”

“Sleep is very important,” Erin replied with dignity, shoving her own stuff into her bag. “I’m a growing woman!”

Growing woman?! Bullshit. Erin was as tall as Peter, so she had an inch on Castia and a head on Laura.

“I won’t pass you my notes,” Peter informed her while they walked to the cafeteria. “I can’t believe you sleep in class!”

“It’s a boring class,” pointed Laura. “We just needed the basic: be a good Huntsmen, kill Grimm, do not steal stuff, save people, be awesome. That’s it. The rest was useless. None of us want to enlist in the military!”

“Well I do,” replied Peter with great dignity.

Laura’s jaw hit the floor: “Seriously?!”

“Not as a soldier, dumbass. I want to work in their R&D department. They already offered me an internship. Think of how many grenades I could make with access to their chemistry labs.”

“And I want to enlist too!” exclaimed Erin. “My dad is in the military you know, and my cousin is going to join once he graduates. I’m going to be an amazing Specialist. You know, people with a Semblance useful for crowds’ control are very valued in the military, because panicked crowds are the first thing to attract Grimm. And what about you Castia, do you want to enlist? I saw you take notes!”

The abrupt change of topic made Castia blink in surprise. Part of her brain was still mulling over the fact that Erin wanted to be in the military. She couldn’t really imagine her being a good little soldier, Winter Schnee-style. Well, Specialists were all different, weren’t they? And Erin had a point about her Semblance being useful. In the army, she could be deployed in place where her Semblance could be a game changer…

“Me?” she finally shrugged. “I have thought about it, but I don’t know. I like my autonomy.”

Laura silently held out her hand for a fist-bump, and Castia obliged with an amused smile. Erin rolled her eyes:

“Well, it’s your choice. It still sucks, though. There are tons of attractive boys in the military, you know!”

“I’m not joining an army to bang a guy, Erin”, flatly replied Castia.

Behind her, someone chocked. They ignored him and took their trays (Castia had to admit that the food looked pretty good, not like the kind of military crap she could have feared) to look for a table. Lunch break had just begun, and they had their pick. The cafeteria was huge, after all. They sat down next to the windows, and Castia immediately craned her neck to admire the view. At Beacon, the cafeteria was at ground level, and you could only see part of the park. Here, the cafeteria was on the sixth floor, and the view was great. You could see the park, the pools, the edge of the Academy, and even part of the city.

She still missed Vale a little bit. She still missed Beacon, actually. The big halls, the library, the park, the teachers who pated her shoulder, the students who casually stood aside so she could run through corridors, the sense of belonging to the same place as her sister... But it was in the past now. She needed to stop clinging to it. With an effort, she turned away from the view and focused on her plate. Laura and Peter were already bickering about their homework like an old married couple. Erin was egging them on, looking like she greatly enjoyed the show, when suddenly she looked up and grinned:

“Well, well, look who’s here!”

Castia raised her head just in time to see smirking student drop his ass on the seat next to the pink-haired girl. It was an older guy with short brown hair artfully mussed, a friendly face, and the same turquoise eyes as Erin. Castia squinted, wondering why he seemed so familiar… Then she chocked on her salad.

It was _Clover Ebi_. The future Ace Operative with a Semblance based on luck! Holy shit, she hadn’t thought she was going to meet another canon character so soon!

“Hello, kid,” smirked Clover.

Erin theatrically rolled her eyes, then turned toward her team and introduced him:

“Guys, this is my cousin Clover. He’s a third year and very stupid.”

Clover pulled on her hair, and she batted his hand away with a squawk of protest, looking like every younger sibling annoyed by their elder. Castia felt dumb. _Erin Ebi_. They had the same last name. They even looked a bit alike, with their big blue eyes and the way they smiled like overly friendly golden retrievers. Ugh. She should have seen it coming!

Three other students sat down next to Clover, looking a bit hesitant. Now that she had been warned, Castia didn’t flail so much, but she couldn’t help a little startle of recognition. It was Cover’s teammates! She had seen them at the Vytal Tournaments and she had recognized them, but it was still a shock to see Robyn Hill and Fiona Thyme. They were wearing the gray school uniforms, and Robyn’s hair was shorter, but there was no doubt: it was them.

“Nice to meet you,” smiled Clover. “I’m Clover, and this is Robyn Hill, Fiona Thyme, and Lily Lumpeen. We’re Team RFLE (‘Riffle’), in third year.”

Robyn smiled warmly. She wore her light blonde hair (just a shade off Castia’s) in a ponytail with a dark red ribbon. Fiona waved a bit shyly, her eyes lingering on Laura as if the sheep-Faunus was measuring the potential danger of a fox-Faunus. The last person on their team, Lily, was a girl with short red hair, sparking green eyes, and a gigantic axe on her shoulder. She was bouncing with energy, and smiled the brightest of all.

“We already know Erin but it’s a pleasure to see new faces!” she exclaimed. “Welcome to Atlas Academy! Please don’t hold the headmistress against us.”

Castia couldn’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, she is weird, isn’t she?”

The lingering awkwardness dissipated, and everyone introduced themselves. Team RFLE was one of the best in their year, despite not having any destructive Semblance. Clover had luck, Robyn could tell if someone lied, Fiona could store things in a pocket space, and Lily could turn invisible to human and Grimm alike. But they were all great fighters and had excellent teamwork. Clover wanted to join the army, but the girls were undecided. While Robyn and Fiona wanted to dedicate their lives to protecting the city, Lily dreamed of traveling the world. Castia privately wondered if it was what had happened in the canon-story, where Clover and Robyn had been at odds and where Lily (or their shared past) had never been mentioned. Did their team break up?

Well, it hadn’t happened yet, in any case. They were all going along just fine. Sure, they didn’t tease each other like Team ECLP already did, but it probably had more to do with their personalities than with any hypothetic rift between them. Robyn and Lily were the energetic ones, easily bantering with everybody. Clover was a bit sarcastic, especially with Erin, but overall he was kind of serene. Fiona was a shy one, and didn’t talk much. The rest of the team seemed a bit protective of the short sheep-Faunus. When Laura asked about her family in Mantle, the three of them changed topic at once.

“So Andrina texted me about sneaking a closet’s door into the dorms?” Clover enquired, raising an eyebrow. “Did you break your already?”

“That snitch,” cursed Erin. “I specifically texted Aquata and Adella to avoid Andrina meddling in. No, I didn’t break the door! Our room just needs a bit cheering up, that’s all.”

Robyn nodded sympathetically:

“Yes, the gray is kind of dull, isn’t it? We put plants in our room to brighten it.”

“That’s what Alana suggested you did too,” Clover added, looking pointedly at his cousin.

“Alana is in Vale, how does she even know that I need a closet door?”

“Arista told her.”

“How does _Arista_ know?! She’s in Mistral!”

“Hold on, hold on,” Castia interrupted, dismayed. “How many sisters do you even _have_ , Erin?!”

“Six,” she snorted. “Attina is the oldest, she is fifteen years older than me and a engineer. Then there is Alana, who is thirteen years older than me and a wedding planner in Vale. After her there are the twins Adella and Aquata, who are ten years older than me and work in weapons design. Then there is Arista, eight years older than me: she is a journalist in Mistral. And finally there is Andrina, who is six years older than me, and a meddling busybody who is also a lawyer, which… kinda explain he busybody thing, actually.”

“Holy cow,” muttered Peter, looking impressed.

“I know, right?” Erin smiled darkly. “My dad really wanted a boy. But he had six daughters, then his wife Athena died. He remarried about four years later with my mom, Electra. He thought he was finally going to have a son. He even picked _Erin_ as a boy’s name… Then bam, he got me, a girl, and my mom died right after my birth. Dad never remarried, he was kind of busy being completely overwhelmed with seven kids. And then Clover’s parents, so my uncle and his wife, died in a plane accident, three years later… So he ended up with Clover. So he _almost_ got a son, finally! But he is still annoyed that Clover isn’t his or that I’m not a boy, which something we carefully never talk about during family diners, except when we want to start a fight.”

Everybody winced at the aggressively casual way she recounted the family’s story. Clover, who had face-palmed about midway in her tale, let his hand fall down and rolled his eyes.

“Well, it’s tactless but true. Needless to say my uncle always treated me with kids’ gloves, since I’m kind of his pyrrhic victory over fate. Also Erin, girl or not, is the baby of the family and could get away with murder, not matter who was our babysitter. We are the two spoiled ones.”

“That explain a lot,” joked Robyn.

Everyone relaxed. Cautiously, they moved on less explosive topics. They talked about generic things that all Huntsmen talked about: weapons, fighting styles, sports, recent tournaments… Erin mentioned peripherally knowing some others students in their class, because their parents were military too. Team RFLE also pointed a bunch of others students that they were friend with. Three of them were in fourth year, because they wanted to join the military, and Castia recognized the famous winner of last year’s Vytal Festival: Lionel Greenleaf. Tall, handsome, with long brown hair like a lion’s mane and striking golden eyes. With him was a tall buff girl who looked a lot like him, and that Robyn introduced as his twin, Joanna Greenleaf. The last member of their trio was a pretty girl with blue air named Marian Marigold. Castia was pretty sure those two were going to join Robyn’s rogue group in the canon story line. Damn, how did they go from ‘joining the military’ to ‘running a rebellion’?

Well, no matter. She would find out in time. For the moment, she was just glad to be surrounded by friendly people, who also were competent Huntsmen sharing some common ground with her. Castia still had a bit of a hard time opening up (after so much time on her own or with Glynda as her only friend, she was used to being dismissed or ignored when she started talking), but at the end of the lunch break, she had relaxed enough that she had stopped tensely waiting for the other shoe to drop. Those people were just… normal. They treated her like a regular student, not like the baby of the class or an annoying idealist or a kid underfoot. It was pretty great. Damn, she could have had that a whole year ago if Glynda hadn’t sabotaged her…

… And she really needed to stop thinking about Glynda. Her sister was a whole continent away. Castia was in Atlas now! She was allowed to have fun and not think about the past! So she enjoyed Team RFLE’s company, they talked about all and nothing, and she allowed herself to relax.

Then it was time to go back in class. For the first year’s students, there were three days of class from Monday to Wednesday, with one hour of physical training each evening. Then it was pure Huntsmen training on Thursday and Friday, and you had the week-end to get over it… Except if you had taken an elective, or a sport class. Castia had signed up for kick-boxing and for an elective class on engineering, while Peter had his internship. Only Erin and Laura would enjoy a full Saturday of rest… Oh well. Castia could live with it. Besides, if her electives sucked she could still ditch them.

So they went back to class. For a country revolving so much around its military, Castia would have thought that the Academy would be stricter. After all, the last war had come from the fact that the kingdom of Atlas (then the kingdom of Mantle) had ordered the repression of self-expression to control its citizens. The whole point was to be safer from the Grimm, which were attracted by negative emotions… But still, as Benjamin Franklin would have said: _any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both_. So this forced apathy, and Atlas’s insistence that their way of life was what was best for everyone, as well as other big problems (such as _slavery_ ) had finally led to the Great War. After the end of the war, Atlas had given up this way of life, but still… Its mark remained. The huge military, the way people considered emotions to be weakness, the way they valued order and traditionalism.

So yeah, it would have made sense for the Academy to be rigid and traditional. But… It _was_ strict, sure, but it also took in account the fact that they trained Huntsmen, not soldiers. Everyone had their quirks and their peculiarities, even teachers… Or maybe, especially teachers. Professor Zelena, who taught History and Grimm Studies, had the most deadpan voice but also the driest sense of humor Castia had ever heard. She was dressed in a sparking green cocktail dress that looked impossible to fight in, and had two peacock feathers braided in her dark hair. You had to admire her style, if nothing else.

“So the rules thus far are _don’t be late_ and _don’t be absent from class_ ”, she started her class by saying matter-of-factly. “Unless you are absent because of circumstances outside your control. In that case, notify me before class. If I walk in here and you are not in your seat, and I don’t already know why that is the case… I will assume that you are dead. We will hold a brief service in your memory and then continue on, as we know you would want.”

Then there was professor Bole (the one who had dropped Castia and Erin’s group from an airplane), who taught math, physics, chemistry, sciences, mechanics, and survival class (which wasn’t really a subject, but a day-long test they would have every semester). He started by warning them he didn’t have a lesson plan. He believed in improvisation. Also, his lessons would often blend into each other. Math was relevant to everything else. Physics and chemistry were two sides of the same coins. Mechanics were basically physics applied to real life. Science could touch anything from geology to anatomy. And survival class would count for about thirty percent of their grades in those five others subject. Yes, Mister Marengo, that would mean extra credit for anyone able to make a homemade grenade. No, Mister Marengo, you don’t have to demonstrate.

Professor Maastricht was in charge of literature, arts, philosophy, ethics, and laws. Yes, they studied law at Huntsmen’s school. They were training to be warrior fighting for humankind, it would be dumb to commit crime on a technicality while doing so. Anyway, professor Maastricht was a tall, lanky blond man that looked like every art teacher in high school looked in the movies, with long hair, big glasses, and paint-splattered clothes. He was friendly and cheerful, but he sometime had a creepy smile that gave him an eerily resemblance to the headmistress.

“Yeah,” he smiled brightly, “I mean if you don’t know the answer that’s fine, but I’m gonna make you pick the next person I call on. It’s a social experiment I run. I like to see if people pick their friends or their enemies. Wildly amusing. Anyway, be prepared for that.”

Well, thought Castia, picking up a pen and hiding a smile behind her hand. At least, she knew she wasn’t going to be bored here…

**oOoOoOo**

Castia wasn’t bored. School was awesome. They had mostly those three professors for their school-oriented days (Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday), but they were also introduced to others, who gave one lesson every month. There was James Ironwood, for example. He taught Military Introduction. Castia felt oddly off-balance at treating her friend as a teacher, so she hid at the back of classroom and didn’t say a word. The class was interesting, thought. What was the military, what were the ranks, what were the duties of a soldier, how it intersected with the duties of Huntsmen… Ironwood was also a good teacher, patient and friendly. He didn’t make jokes or share anecdotes, staying very professional, but he managed to look kind and approachable. A great advantage when one is trying to recruit… Castia heard at least three girls giggling and saying he was _charming_. Ugh. Alright, she had eyes, she knew he was handsome. But he was almost Glynda’s age! That was _old_! He was way out of a potential dating pool for horny teenagers!

(Of course she gleefully told James about his new fanclub, to which he responded dryly with an anecdote about how, last year, a third-year student had been stubbornly waiting outside his office with flowers…. And James had fled from his window, because the idea of confronting the fact that twenty years old girls found him attractive was way to awkward for him. Well, he didn’t say it like _that_ , but Castia could read subtext and she had a good laugh. Poor guy. He really was a Hufflepuff.)

Anyway. Classes weren’t exactly hard, but they weren’t easy either. After being bored for so long at primary combat school, then twiddling her thumbs for the past year because having some tutors teach her basic stuff an hour each didn’t fill a day… Well, Castia found Atlas’ Academy _engaging_. They didn’t have much homework, which was a plus. It left them with plenty of time to hang out, redecorate their dorm room, or study other stuff. Peter started teaching them how to make homemade grenades. Laura picked it up pretty quickly, as did Castia, but Erin fucked up the dosing and had them banned from the labs following the subsequent explosion.

Then there were the physical training classes, Thursday and Friday. Well, saying it was physical training was a bit reductive, really. They were taught dueling, but also team fighting, whether it was four against four or two against two. Then there was Grimm fighting: a captured monster was let out, some students had to put it down, and the other had to analyze the fight. But they didn’t just learn _fighting_. There were races, gymnastics, endurance training. People who had never learned any martial arts (such as Peter) were taught some punches, blocks, and throws. They learned how to operate a machine-gun, in case they had to use the ones on the wall protecting Mantle. They were taught how to drive a van, a snowmobile, and even a flying shuttle.

They didn’t have an assigned teacher for this class. It was loosely supervised by vice-headmaster Foggy, but the real teaching was done by a revolving set of trained fighters. Most of them were Huntsmen, some of them were Specialists, but there were also a few contractors of the military who had never found their Semblance but were still deadly in a fight.

Castia loved those classes. Finally, she felt pushed forward. She was good, very good even, but she encountered _challenges_. She could go all out when fighting. She learned interesting stuff. The races were her favorite. Her usual modus operandi was to use Telekinesis to slingshot herself in the hair and then propel herself at high speed with blasts of power, but the teachers came up with more and more challenges to make her more precise, like zigzagging through a three-dimensional slalom. Speed and brute force had always been enough, but she started adding precision and carefulness to her stunts. Like making herself levitate a few feet off the ground and land silently on a balcony, instead of rocketing like a missile and crashing into it. Glynda would have been proud (it was exactly the kind of precision she had wanted to teach her by playing with tiny pieces of machinery), but Castia didn’t really think about her anymore. Or at least she tried to.

They often hang out with Team RFLE instead of people their own age. Peter and Laura saw no problem with it (they didn’t know anyone in their class), and Castia had never got on with teenagers anyway. Besides, Team RFLE was good company. Clover was funny and seeing him bickering with Erin was an endless source of amusement. Fiona was still kind of shy, but she was slowly getting out of her shell. Lily was a ball of barely-contained energy, always cheerful and ready to talk a mile a minute. Robyn was actually Castia’s favorite. Sure, she had flaws. She was self-righteous and arrogant. But Robyn was also very serious and idealistic. She wasn’t ambitious, like Castia or Ironwood who dreamed of launching satellites and slaying every Grimm of the word, but she still was looking toward a better future. Nothing as _absolute_ as a world without Grimm, but… She wanted shelters for the homeless, reduced taxes for the poor in Mantle, better work conditions for the miners of the Schnee Dust Company. She was down-to-earth, realistic, but also determined to be an optimist. Castia didn’t know her well enough to open up about her own dreams, but she found talking to her easy and comforting. They shared a lot of views. Privately, Castia thought Robyn would like James Ironwood. Well, the kind-hearted James Ironwood hiding behind his military façade, anyway. But good luck with that. James wasn’t the most open person around!

Anyway. Weeks passed. She trained with her team. She also trained with people from their class, but they didn’t mingle much. Erin had pestered her cousin until he gave up and Team RFLE booked a training ground to kick Team ECLP’s collective ass. It… worked, actually. Erin and Clover had an epic duel while their three other teammates banded together to eliminate their adversaries. Castia was objectively stronger than the others, but they had impeccable teamwork and managed to have her running in circles, or to make her collide with Laura or Peter. Castia took out Lily who appeared to be their close combat specialist, but then Robyn managed to shoot her with a sedative and… Yeah. They got their asses kicked.

Sometime they just hung out. Castia invented weird quizzes to sort her friends into Hogwarts Houses. So far, herself was a toss between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Erin was either a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, Laura was probably a Slytherin but maybe a Hufflepuff, and Peter was pure Ravenclaw. It was hard to be sure when people didn’t even know what Hogwarts _was_. Well, at least they had fun. Besides, Team RFLE was easier to sort. Clover was a Hufflepuff by the way. Robyn and Fiona were both Gyffindor, and Lily was a Ravenclaw.

Castia also started sharing stories. No her personal story, of course. She kept her secrets close to her chest. But sometime she randomly pulled out of her hat something about _Harry Potter_ or Sherlock Holmes or even a fairy tales, and she painstakingly started recounting the whole thing to a fascinated audience. Erin was the acrobat, Peter the scientist, and Laura the wild card, but to her dismay Castia started getting a reputation as a crazily imaginative storyteller.

“I cannot believe the weird ideas you have sometimes,” Peter told her right after a basic recounting of _Naruto_. “Your brain must be a very interesting place to live in.”

“Woah there,” said Erin, raising both eyebrows. “Maybe calm down with the mad scientist vibe, dude. It’s her brain. Let her have it.”

“I like that you immediately imagined that I was going to steal it.”

“You look like you would enjoy an office full of brains in jars”, Laura butted in, grinning.

“Hey, I resent that. It would be very unhygienic. I was talking about living in her brain, _in theory_.”

Castia shrugged: “Well, he’s not wrong. The brain is just eight pounds of meat that sits in complete darkness and plays a video game of what it thinks is the most realistic thing ever, so… When you think about it, you have to wonder what the hell is going on. I ask myself that sometimes, and it’s _my_ brain.”

There was a silence, then Peter raised a finger imperiously:

“Firstly, it’s three pounds, not eight. Also it’s not really meat, it’s mostly fat with some water and salt. You have a wad of soggy bacon inside your skull. And this blob of gross unprocessed jello somehow manages to run a complex biomechanical suit using less electricity than it takes to work a light bulb. Fantastic, right?”

“Gross”, said Laura who looked fascinated (Erin just looked a bit green).

“It is, isn’t it?” continued Peter almost dreamily. “And people wonder why humans are so weird and have odd experiences that aren’t actually real. I mean, if a bowl of tapioca pudding managed to hallucinate so vividly it invented calculus, you could expect anything from it.”

Laura and Castia both nodded approvingly. Erin stared thoughtfully at her pudding, s if wondering if he could do her math homework. Team RFLE, who was eating lunch with them, just looked at them incredulously. Then Lily, who had all the tact of a rusted spade, said bluntly:

“Well now I see why you don’t have any friends.”

“Hey!”

The thing was that she wasn’t _wrong_ , per se. Team ECLP was a bit strange. They didn’t wear lab coats and rub their hands while laughing maniacally or anything like that, but they were _weird_. None of them hung out with their classmates outside of the required training exercises. They never got out during the week-end to see movies or just eat in a fast-food. Erin never talked to anyone besides her teams and her friends, but she somehow stayed on top of all the gossip, and could sneak behind anyone like a freaking ninja. Everyone in their class had at least once turned around and jumped off their boots because Erin was just _there_ , smiling brightly two inches from their faces. Peter was really into the whole chemistry thing and could spend hours holed up in a labs, sometimes making new cocktails but sometimes just pulling out his hair over astrophysical calculations that he brought from his Saturday internship. He also suggested setting things on fire way to often to not make anyone suspicious. Laura turned into a feral ball of rage when people tried to steal fries from her plate and was complete vicious against people she saw perpetrating any injustice. There was once a Faunus being bullied in the hall just in front of her, and nobody had _proof_ but five minutes after the bully had been just kicked in the balls from behind so hard he fell from a window on the second floor.

Actually, _Castia_ was the normal one. She just loved hanging out with her weirdo team, and enabled them any time she could. But besides that, she was pretty normal. She worked hard, she had good grades, she was the top fighter in her class…

They got along great, thought. They hung out, they shared wild stories and crazy jokes, they got each others’ back in training… But they also let each others have their space. They didn’t pry. Erin was in touch with her sisters but not her dad, and nobody asked why. Laura had obviously been her fair share of streets fights, but her teammates didn’t ask how. Peter had been homeschooled to the point of having no real fight experience before the Academy, and nobody pried about it. Castia had left the Vale and cut ties with her home, and they didn’t question why. It was pretty great, actually. They didn’t know each others’ deepest secrets, but they _didn’t have to know_ to trust each others. Some people just clicked.

Castia had to wonder, thought, what kind of thing attracted her to others people. Eccentricity, maybe. _Difference_. Peter, Laura, Erin… They were like her: they didn’t fit. It wasn’t because they had big dreams like her, it was for others reasons, but they were isolated all the same. Erin had issues with her dad and was self-conscious about her Semblance. Laura apparently had a troubled past and was revolted by injustice. Peter would have loved to dedicate himself to research for the sake of knowledge, but in this world you had to survive first. They all had their reasons but… The end result was the same, wasn’t it? They all had been alone before joining the Academy.

It was a good thing they had found each others.

Anyway… Time passed. It started snowing (winter was early in Atlas). Castia kept in touch with her others friends. Well, she texted Amber more or less weekly, and didn’t receive an answer as often (apparently the Maiden wasn’t a fan of school stories). But she still trained with James Ironwood. It was hard to find a way for their schedules to coincide. Still, he managed to make time for her, and she appreciated it. He didn’t have to. Was he feeling responsible for her? Probably. He was the kind of person who felt responsible for everyone, but Castia had really gone and made herself his problem when she had reached out to him at her arrival in Atlas. So he was committed. He had given her contacts, information, advices, time. And, well… After a while, he had made himself a pillar in her life.

He wasn’t taking Glynda’s place, that was for sure, but he had filled part of the void she had left behind. He was a friend. He was a confidante. He was… Kind of a role-model, maybe? Alright, Castia was well aware that as a character James Ironwood was _not_ the guy you wanted to emulate, _because he was going to become a military dictator_. She knew that. But maybe he could stay a good guy. Maybe she could prevent him from falling to the dark side.

(Yes, Castia had a saving-people thing. So sue her. She was a Gryffindor-Hufflepuff, it was in her blood.)

The thing was: in the canon-story, James Ironwood wasn’t a bad person. He was a _tragic character_. Ozpin was a timeless one, Ruby was a hopeful one, you get the gist of it: everybody had a trope to follow. But Ironwood was inspired by the tinman in ‘The Wizard of Oz’, the one who lost his heart. James was a genuinely good man: it just wasn’t enough to save him. He was a reasonable, caring person in a position of authority who was truly, genuinely doing his best to protect the world from the forces of evil. He saw a problem, he took into account the information he had, he assessed the resources he could respond with… and he made the single worst decision he possibly could, _every single time_. It wasn’t even his fault! It was just that, somehow, things backfired in his face. When he learned that Beacon was in danger because the enemy was here, of course he brought his army to defend his allies: but it only sowed distrust. Then Penny’s secret, _a military secret he was right to keep silent_ , was revealed and used to make him look like a manipulative warmonger. And during the Fall of Beacon, in a move that nobody could have predicted, his army was hacked into by a computer genius that everyone believed dead. And _after that_ , the blockade, made to protect Atlas, turned the Council against him! Every decision had been objectively done with _good intentions_ , and every outcome had been _terrible_. So, in the end, he had spiraled into paranoia and decided to cut his losses in Volume 7 (the last episodes that Castia had seen before her reincarnation).

But James’ demise wasn’t ineluctable. None of it was! Everything that went wrong had happened because, in canon, he had been _alone_ , carrying on his shoulder the weight of a whole kingdom. That place hadn’t been named Atlas for nothing. So if Castia could change that… Well, maybe she could save him.

She felt responsible too. She owned him. Not only because she was his friend, but because he was her _ally_. Before his fall, and even then, James Ironwood had been one of the Good Guy, fighting for humanity against Salem. It was exactly what had inspired Castia when she had decided to follow her sister’s footsteps. The fight, the faith, the idealism, the hope. It was reassuring, to go in a certain direction knowing other people walked the same path. Now, she wasn’t sure Glynda’s road and hers would cross anytime soon, but it was comforting to at least have someone with the same goals as her.

Also, in a fight, he was a great opponent. He pushed her to get better in a way few people did, not even the teachers. Having to compete with someone for speed and agility in a three-dimensional chase was thrilling. In class, most fights happened on the ground. Nobody could fly. But James Ironwood, with his gravity-bullets, could almost compete with Telekinesis. _Almost_ , because… Well, obviously, Castia’s Semblance still packed a better punch than a simple gun. She knew it because when she managed to hit James (that bastard was good at dodging) she could _threw him through a wall_.

It was wildly satisfying.

“Ow,” Ironwood said, slowly peeling himself off the ruined wall.

“I win!” Castia announced smugly.

Since she was flying through the air, she levitated back down until she landed softly on the frozen ground, barely disturbing the snow. She was pretty proud of that. Three months ago, she would have been completely unable to do it without impacting the earth like an anvil. That was the kind of soft move she had never thought to learn until she had to do stealth training, and had to rack her brain to find way to adapt herself.

“Congratulations,” said James, dusting his clothes (and looking sorrowfully to his white uniform turned gray and shredded in places). “That makes it… Three to six, isn’t it?”

Castia scowled. Brute force wasn’t everything. She still lost three-quarters of the time, and her victory could all be attributed to a combination of luck and her using unnecessary force. In terms of pure technique, she was completely outmatched.

It always stung a bit. She was sore loser and well aware of it. But hey, she was starting to be used to it. It had been almost three months since the beginning of school so it was five months now that she was getting beaten by James Ironwood and his gravity-bullets. She shrugged, and pointed to his head with a smirk:

“You look like an old man with gray hair.”

James rolled his eyes and vigorously scrubbed his hair to make the dirt fall off. Between the snow and the dust, he still looked like someone had exploded a bag of flour in his face, though.

“Still want to do the last match?” she asked innocently. “I wouldn’t want you to break a hip or something.”

“Very funny,” he snorted. “What about switching to hand to hand combat?”

Castia raised her brows and looked at Ironwood, who was six feet and half _at least_ , probably twice her weight, a trained soldier, and had shoulders like an Olympic swimmer. Yeah, no. She was tall and athletic for her age, but he could probably snap her in half without batting an eyelash.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

“You can use you Semblance,” allowed Ironwood.

“ _Oh_ , in that case…”

She moved, intending to punch him with Telekinesis enhancing her strength, but he was quicker and she found herself flat on her back in less than a second, the wind knocked out of her.

“Alright,” she wheezed. “I should have seen it coming.”

James snorted, and offered her a hand up. Once she had gotten back on her feet, she couldn’t help but ask with curiosity:

“Was that a judo throw? That was so fast!”

“It was,” nodded James, getting back in position and indicating she should do the same. “You always focus on the upper-body of your enemy because that’s where you usually hit, so you missed me sweeping your legs.”

He demonstrated, catching her by the arm so she didn’t fall, then put her back upright. Narrowing her eyes, she waited for him to try again and this time she anchored herself in place with a small purple shockwave. They tried again until she managed to evade him, then Ironwood taught her how to do this throw herself. Well, there was no way she could just throw a grown man above her shoulder, but she did manage to sweep his feet and knock him off-balance, which she followed by a feigned punch. James announced it was good enough, and they started going back to the Academy.

During the summer, they used to sit down and gossip (or, well, Castia asked questions and James bitched about his job), but they didn’t really have the time for it anymore. Still, it didn’t stop them from making small talk.

“I saw on the news that Concilman Hughes was going to publish a book,” she said innocently.

James looked suspicious:

“You don’t usually watch the news…”

“Well, no,” she admitted. “The evening news is the only place where they start with ‘good evening’ and then tell you why it isn’t. But Peter and Erin both watch it religiously, so Laura and I have started listening to threw in snide comments. So, about this book…”

“It will be full of dramatic pondering of his place in the universe and how unfair are people who don’t recognize his genius,” predicted James. “Waste of paper if you ask me. Good news is that old politicians start publishing books when they became faced with their own mortality.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hopefully, that he is going to retire. Or rather, that he isn’t going to be a candidate for the next elections.”

“Nice,” approved Castia (who didn’t know much about Hughes anyway). “So who is going to be a candidate? Someone from the military? There are five seats, but only General Xanadu is military, and the army represent more than a fifth of Atlas’ power…”

“True,” James nodded thoughtfully. “But the goal isn’t to give more of a voice to the military, in my opinion, but to make the military a better servant of the people. Sure, someone from the army would help that, but it wouldn’t be enough. It would need to be someone with a background in politics or economy, a real politician. Ideally someone from Mantle, since the city’s interests are underrepresented. But well…”

“Politicians are assholes who only care about money?” Castia guessed.

“Language,” James absent-mindedly replied.

Castia shrugged. Sure, she could try to be all fancy and call someone _a blight on the world_ or something like that. Peter did it, instead of just saying _fuck_. But it simply had a different energy and weight to it than calling them a complete asshole. You wouldn’t use a rapier in the same situation you’d use a folding chair.

“So anyway,” she switched gears, “Peter refuses to let me look at his stuff. How are they planning to get him to launch a satellite? Because he can’t control of gravity on an object out of his reach for more than ten seconds, I think.”

“Well,” James frowned, “one of the plans would be to launch the satellite from a plane, so your friend would be on it…”

“Oh, I got to see those plans.”

**oOoOoOo**

The semester ended in December. They passed exams. They had a survival test they all passed with flying color (although Peter made a bunch of rookie mistakes, and only got a passing grade because of his handmade grenades). Then there were holidays. In Castia’s old life, it would have been Christmas holidays, but here, it was New Year Holiday. Bah. Same thing, actually. It was a week long. Erin went back to her family with Clover. Laura, Peter and Castia had signed up to stay in the Academy. It was calmer without Erin. Well, not calmer, just… More silent. Castia didn’t like it, so she started putting music in their dorm room.

Since it had been redecorated, the dorm looked almost like a home. They all had bed-sheets in a different color (Castia had lavender, Laura pale orange, Erin sky blue, and Peter dark red). Their cupboard had now different doors. One was wood, the other had been painted white, and the last one was covered by a huge mirror. Fluffy white and yellow rugs covered the floor. They had put painting and posters on the walls. All the chairs had been dumped and replaced with beans bags and cushions in blue and green tones. They had some plants, gifted by Team RFLE. Castia liked that room. It felt more like home that her family’s house in Vale.

Anyway. Castia started pestering Peter to look at his internship homework, and he eventually gave in. Both of them meet up in the deserted library to ponder over the equations. It was… Well, it was physics. _Complicated_ physics. How to extract a satellite from the planet’s gravity wasn’t exactly easy work. You had to calculate the trajectory, take in account the rotation of the planet… The maximum height that dust-powered engines could reach… The weight of the satellite before and after being affected by Peter’s Semblance… Ugh. Castia’s least favorite subject was math.

Sure, she was good at school. She took notes, reread them before exam, and never had any (major) trouble. Some subjects bored her and she didn’t have high grades, but she never fell out of the upper-third of the class. In others subjects, she liked learning and had amazing grades, like in ethics (mostly she liked to argue) or History (because she liked hearing about new things). She didn’t worry much about it. In Huntsmen school, the import stuff was the fighting. It made about seventy-percent of their grade.

So yeah, school wasn’t a problem for Castia. Actually, they were all good at school, except Erin. She got by, but barely. The only subject where she was any good was Grimm Studies. In every other class, she barely exceeded average. Well, she didn’t work really hard either… Peter on the other hand aced every subject because _he worked for it_. He took notes, reread them every week-end, and used color-coded summary cards. The guy was a freak. Laura was the opposite: she was wildly unpredictable. In class, she just noted everything in a big notebook, without any particular order, without even dividing her notes by subject. She sometime had barely average grades, and sometime awesome ones. She never seemed to study. Most of her bad grades could be attributed to the fact that her essays went completely off topic. She had no methodology and apparently didn’t care. Castia was really wondering if she had even gone to school once in her life. Her approach mostly was ‘ _I’m going to swing it_ ’ and the worse was that it worked three quarters of the time.

It drove Peter completely spare, actually, which was hilarious. Sure, all of Team ECLP liked to banter, but Peter and Laura had an exclusive bond. He had a short fuse and she loved to taunt him. They bickered like an old married couple about everything, but especially about school work. Peter pestered her to study more, Laura grinned and bragged about her “all in one” notebook, Peter bristled like a cat because writing down all her lessons like that was _heresy_ , and at the end they were arguing over which colored highlighter was the most logical to use in a History essay. It was highly entertaining. During lunch, Team RFLE loved to watch them like it was a particularly fascinating tennis match. Castia was about fifty percent sure that Fiona and Lily were starting to keep scores.

Castia was worried that it would drive a wedge between them, but after a few weeks of it, she started to realize that those two just had no idea of how normal human beings interacted. They were just like that. For all she knew, it was some intricate courtship ritual. Erin was on the opinion that if they keep at it, they would be banging like bunnies in six months. Unfortunately her cousin Clover had heard her and had been completely indignant about it, ranting for five entire minutes that Peter and Laura were corrupting his baby cousin with their twisted ideas, because apparently Clover was in denial and hadn’t realized that his ‘baby cousin’ was actually a huge pervert.

Anyway. Back to the math.

It was complicated, weird, and full of twisted schematics. Good news, there was actually a plan where ‘ _someone’s Semblance_ ’ was used to propel the satellite. Castia hadn’t been offered an internship in Atlas’s military because she had no talent for science, but still. Her power had been taken in account, as a potential energy source. Her name wasn’t cited anywhere because duh, she didn’t have an internship, she was a non-entity until the scientists got a plan and decided to bring her in to be their muscles, but Castia could read between the lines. Unless someone else had a telekinesis Semblance, yeah, she was going to be part of that project. It was wild. She couldn’t help but grin like a lunatic for a whole five minutes.

Still, they had some work to do. They started puzzling around those equations. Peter was pretty good at math. He wasn’t a gifted child or anything like that, he didn’t made wild leaps of logic that came out of nowhere. The ‘mad scientific’ thing was a bit exaggerated anyway. He reasoned quickly and logically, that was all. It came from hard work… And probably a few advanced tutors. This math level was way above what they taught at the Academy. No wonder he was always the first to finish his exercises in professor Bole’s class.

“This is gibberish,” Castia muttered, turning a schematic upside-down and squinting to see if it made more sense.

It didn’t. She glared at the paper as if the answer could magically appear if she intimated it enough. Peter rolled his eyes and took the schematic from her.

“I don’t see why you insisted on helping. Math isn’t your thing.”

“Well I can’t eternally stick to storytelling,” she retorted, taking another sheet of paper.

Oh, it was a single-unknown equation! She could do that. She had no idea what it was (time? distance? weight? speed?) but it was better than nothing. She hastily grabbed a pen and started scribing down. Peter shook his head fondly, then yawned.

“Oh come on,” Castia rolled her eyes, “it’s barely ten o’clock. You’re not allowed to be tired. If you are tired, then I will be discouraged, and we’ll get nothing done.”

“That’s not my fault,” Peter defended himself. “I’m not an early bird. Or a night owl, actually.”

“So more like a permanently exhausted pigeon?” Castia threw in snidely.

He tossed a ball of paper at her, and she effortlessly caught it with Telekinesis, sniggering.

“Sorry, sorry. Math makes me mean. Come on, help me out there. What am I looking at? Is that thing the distance or the time? Where are the measure units in here?”

Peter rolled his eyes again (seriously, he was going to hurt himself) but took a pen and started explaining. He wasn’t a bad teacher. A bit bossy, excessively sassy, and with a short fuse, true. But they managed to progress, bouncing ideas back and forth until they found an answer. He got annoyed when she didn’t understand things on the first try (in her defense, it was a complicated subject), but he tried to be patient and didn’t throw the towel, which Erin or Laura would have done half-an-hour ago. Well, Erin would have. Laura had more patience. Or she was just too stubborn to quit, maybe.

Castia was closer to Erin. She was her partner, after all. Besides, Laura and Peter spent so much time bickering that it was simpler to let them sit next to each other instead of risking having them taking above your head all the time. If she had to drawn comparisons to the canon characters, it was like Ren and Nora… Except _they were both_ _Nora_. Ha! Anyway, the point was that in four month of school Castia had almost never been alone with Peter. They were either all together or paired with their partner. Maybe they could switch sometimes. Doing homework with Peter was probably more productive than doing it with Erin, in any case.

“It’s still annoyingly complicated”, Castia muttered after painfully completing one exercise. “I’m thinking we should train instead.”

“You heartless monster,” Peter accused her. “It’s Saturday!”

“All days are good for training,” Castia replied, sticking out her tongue, before realizing something and taking an innocent tone. “How often did you train before going to Atlas’ Academy, anyway?”

Peter threw her a side look:

“Does it matter?”

_Yes_ , almost said Castia, _because your technique is textbook perfect but way too slow, you’re lacking experience, and if your first fight against a real Grimm was during initiation you have the greatest poker face I have ever seen and a completely defective survival instinct._ But she had some tact, despite what people could say, so she just shrugged:

“Yeah, kinda. You progressed by leaps and bound since the first day, so it probably mean that you didn’t train a lot before. Or with horrible teachers.”

Oh damn, that didn’t came out as tactfully as she had hoped. Trying to cover up her blunder, she awkwardly rolled with it:

“Wait, did you have horrible teachers? You can tell me. I will kick their ass. Or I will sick Laura on them, she would kick anyone’s ass. Actually, it could even be a team-bonding experience…”

“Please don’t,” winced Peter, before sighing. “No, I didn’t have terrible teachers. I didn’t have any teachers, actually.”

Castia blinked. Wait, come again? She would have expected that from Laura, not from Peter, goodie two shoes and straight-A student!

“You didn’t go to school?!”

“I didn’t go to primary combat school,” he rectified. “I went to a normal high-school and had some private tutors on the side to teach me about Grimm, Aura, and weapon design. But all of it was theoretical. I told you my family was full of artists, and well, they really hate getting their hands dirty. They live safely in their ivory tower, singing and painting and whatnot, while the real world is just there, full of questions and possibilities!”

He took a deep breath, scowling, then continued more quietly:

“Anyway. I wanted to get out and see the world but nobody is going to hire a scientist to do crazy experiments without a goal. So I told myself, well, I’m good at judo, I’m good at fencing, I could build a weapon. Why not be a Huntsmen? It would be the perfect opening to get in an Academy, maybe become a teacher, maybe make myself a name and get a good network. All fields of research are connected to Academies, those days.”

It was true. Academies were as much a pole of power as were governments, but they actually send people out there and were crazy about new toys. All the mechanics in Vale had been more or less in touch with Beacon Academy (which Castia knew because when she had needed to modify Twin Twilight, Glynda had just whipped out a business card and she had gotten everything she needed from the nearest shop). Same thing went for others industries. There were no big labs, no center of research except for what was nationally founded (so, connected to the Academy, since Academies were a national resource)… Or, exceptionally, when it was paid for by a very rich company, such as the SDC in Atlas. Anyway, if you wanted to do research in any scientific field, the only big resource was the Academy.

Well, in Vale at least. In Atlas, you actually got three options: the Academy, the military, or the Schnee Dust Company. The military needed you to earn your stripes and wasn’t as flexible as the Academy, while the SDC paid terribly unless you had an in with the higher spheres. In any case, Castia would have picked the Academy too.

“So I started teaching myself how to fight,” Peter went on. “I made grenades… I started sneak out to pick fight with others people, with was surprisingly easy… Then I build Meteor, my sword, and I thought I was ready. I sneaked outside the city to pick a fight with a pack of Beowolves, and almost died. I almost gave but, but then I received the offer from Atlas’s Academy, with a scientist internship. So…” he shrugged, “here I am.”

“You had _one_ fight with Grimm before Initiation?!” Castia exclaimed, horrified. “Crap, Peter, you could have died!”

“Imprudent of you to assume I will meet a mortal end,” he smirked.

She slapped the back of his head, scowling:

“I’m serious, idiot!”

“Ow. Alright, fine, I know. I managed to handle Beowolves and Ursas just fine,” he defended himself. “And then I had you guys.”

“Yeah,” Castia conceded. “That was lucky. Sabyrs are a lot quicker than your average Beowof, and speed is _not_ your forte. Holy crap, you played with fire there.”

In canon, Jaune Arc hadn’t had any training when he had started Beacon Academy, and he had been lucky to survive. His team had more or less carried him on their back for a while. Months, maybe? The timeline wasn’t very precise. At least Peter had _some_ training, but compared to Erin, Castia or even Laura, he was a big liability. Oh, he had gotten better in those last months. He had the basis down, after all, and with his Semblance and big ass sword, it saved him. But he still lacked practice. He was slow, he had some bad habit he had picked up and that nobody had corrected.

“I know,” Peter repeated.

“And your family is fine with you being a Huntsman?”

“Oh they don’t know,” he replied casually. “They think I have a civilian internship, they have no idea I’m here. They didn’t even realize I can fight. I forged my graduation papers from a primary combat school in Mistral and applied to Atlas’s Academy behind their back. They think I’m working in a chemistry lab, but it doesn’t actually exist, I made it up. When I passed the entrance exam, I told them I was passing an interview. I also made a fake internship contract, a fake website in case they would try to verify the name of the lab, and I left with their blessing.”

Holy shit. That was some elaborated lie. Castia almost feel a touch of respect for the work he had put in it.

“What if they find out?” she finally said.

Peter shrugged:

“Then they find out, have a huge fight with me over the phone, and maybe cut me off. But I doubt it. Finding out require investigating, and they don’t pay interest to anything outside of Mistral’s artistic high spheres.”

“Well that’s cold,” muttered Castia. “In any case, they _will_ hear about it if you end up in the hospital, so please don’t try to fight Grimm out of your league, alright?”

Peter snorted:

“Yes, don’t worry. Besides, I have gotten better. Laura is training me.”

“She is?” Castia blinked.

She hadn’t noticed. Granted, she didn’t observe all of her teammates’ moves but Laura and Peter weren’t exactly a discreet pair.

“Yes,” Peter nodded. “She thought that my speed was appealing, so we’ve been training every evening.”

“Oh,” understood Castia. “And you teach her textbook’s stances and strikes, don’t you? I had thought she had gotten better in dueling. I was worried that people would notice she hadn’t gone to primary combat school, but she hides it pretty well.”

“She told you?” Peter blinked.

“No,” Castia smirked. “You just confirmed it.” Peter scowled, and Castia snorted: “Oh, don’t beat yourself up about it. You haven’t gone to school either, so you probably didn’t notice, but it was pretty obvious during initiation.”

Peter considered that a few second, then slowly said:

“Well. It’s not my story to tell. But she did actually go to school, for a month, just for the final exams. She came here more legally than me.”

Castia raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Hey, it’s fine. I won’t snoop.”

They stayed silent a few seconds. Castia honestly hadn’t expected all of this when she had started prying. Peter was self-taught. It explained a lot. His lack of practice, why his main strategy was to stand his ground instead of adapting, why he relied on grenades in addition to his sword (most Huntsmen had only one weapon), why he was sometime completely out of his depth while being so knowledgeable. He had never been taught how to use his environment, how to adapt to real-life conditions. He had started with a big disadvantage and he had been aware of it… But it hadn’t stopped him. And it was kind of impressive. Being a self-taught fighter was hard. Unlocking your Semblance alone was even harder. It didn’t require natural talent, but real hard work and tenacity. Peter had been lucky to go this far, but not all of it had been down to luck. Some credit had to be given to his sheer tenacity. Castia felt impressed. Not everyone could have done the same.

“Well!” finally exclaimed Peter, breaking the silence. “I shared three of my big secrets with you, you own me the same.”

“Three?” Castia repeated, trying to buy some time.

“I didn’t go to primary combat school, I forget my records, and my family doesn’t know I’m here. That’s three. Your turn.”

Fine. He had a point. It wasn’t fair that she got to learn everything about her teammates while leaving them in the dark. There had to be an equivalent exchange. So Castia shrugged, and offered:

“I write poetry.”

“I can never escape artists, can I?” Peter moaned, before snorting. “No, I’m kidding. I think it’s cool. I wouldn’t be able to do it. Besides, I should have seen it coming, with your storytelling… Do you write a lot?”

Castia took her poetry notebook out her bag. This thing was now more than five years old, and had been manipulated almost daily. Some pages were dog-eared, the edges of the paper were starting to turn yellow, and the cover was strained in places. Still, Peter riffled carefully through the pages. Castia looked elsewhere, embarrassed, but from the corner of her eyes she could see the moments where Peter stopped to read, and she could guess from memories what those passages were.

_My soul comes from better worlds, and I have_

_an incurable homesickness for the stars._

Sometime it was only a phrase, a single quote. Other times, it was pieces of longer poems she had forgotten, fragment of the old world she had left behind. Some of them may be song’s lyrics, she didn’t remember. It was hard to remember. The more time passed, the less memories stayed. Or rather, the most fragmented they were. Sometimes, when she leafed through this notebook, she realized she had forgotten most of those words.

_we’re all killers._

_we’ve all killed parts of ourselves_

_to survive. we’ve all got blood on our hands._

_something somewhere had to die_

_so we could stay alive._

It was strange to think that someone else was reading those words, her words. Castia looked elsewhere, to the bookshelves, the ceiling, the empty library. Peter was still turning pages. Was it really so fascinating? She wasn’t such a good writer. Well, were they even her words? She remembered them, she hadn’t invented them. Or were they hers, since she had brought them here? In the world of Remnant, nobody had written those verses before. Maybe everything she had brought here was hers now, from Robert Frost’s poetry to her retelling of Tolkien’s stories. It made her feel self-conscious about her own writing abilities. She cast a quick look to the page Peter was reading.

_If I love you,_

_is that a fact_

_or a weapon?_

This quote suddenly reminded her of her sister, and she scowled, annoyed at herself. She had managed to avoid thinking about Glynda for weeks now. Clearing her throat and trying to not redden like an idiot, she extended her hand. Peter gave the notebook back without a word. Castia shoved it back in her back, embarrassed.

“So,” she cleared her throat a second time. “That’s one secret. The second one is that I’m actually sixteen, not seventeen like you and the others. I graduated early. Well, two years early, actually.”

“Uh,” blinked Peter. “So you’re a year younger? I would never have guessed.”

Yeah, Castia was tall and well-built. She preened, then picked up where she had left. Right. _Secrets_. She could tell him she hadn’t needed to pass he entrance exam, since she had been accepted directly by headmistress Quicksilver. She could tell him about knowing James Ironwood and training with him. But no, those weren’t as personal as what he had told her. There was no cheating allowed. She took a breath, then released it.

“The third secret… Well, you’re not the only one with family trouble. I’m not on speaking terms with my sister anymore. I actually forbid her to even try to call me, unless it was to apologize, and she hasn’t tried yet.”

She paused, not really knowing where she was getting with this. But well, Peter had told her important stuff. The least she could do was to reciprocate.

“My sister Glynda was my role-model,” she started. “She is eleven years older than me and teaches at Beacon. I idolized her. She is strong, and smart, and powerful. Next to her, I was always second best, but I… I actually didn’t really mind. I just wanted to be like her. She was pretty much my only friend; my life revolved around her. But Glynda had issues with me being a Huntress. She thought it was too dangerous for me. When I graduated early, at fifteen, she was pissed that I wanted to become join Beacon right away. She sabotaged my application to the Academy so I wouldn’t be accepted, and didn’t tell me until it was too late to apply elsewhere. We had a fight, and then we were at odd for the whole year after that. It completely shattered my trust in her. Then… Well. I went behind her back to apply to Atlas’ Academy, she found out, and what was left of our relationship imploded. We had another fight, I kind of ran away to Atlas, and we’re not speaking anymore.”

There was a short silence. Then Peter whistled:

“Well, your sister has some nerve. You have my whole support. Sabotaging your application? That was a dick move.”

“Language,” Castia chastised him with a grin.

“That’s rich coming from you!”

They shared a smirk, and the atmosphere relaxed. Peter started putting away his homework. They were done anyway. Castia retrieved the pens scattered on the desk. The silence was peaceful. It felt weird to share secret, but… Not in a bad way. It was the kind of strange catharsis that came after a good cry. Your body felt small, but our soul felt infinite.

“No more secrets to share?” asked Peter when they stood up to leave.

Castia pondered it for a few seconds. Secrets? She had tons. It would be years before she could share some of them. But still, she couldn’t help but have a bit of fun with Peter, and so she smirked:

“Well, I may be the source of the military project you’re working on, with the satellite. But it’s still kind of classified, I guess.”

“… Wait, _what_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The teacher are all OCs. Their names follow the color-naming rule : Zelena means green in Croatian, Maastricht is a shade of blue, Bole is a shade of reddish brown. But they aren't important enough for me to have them modelled after fairy tales' characters this time =)
> 
> Lily Lumpeen is an OC modelled after the Frog-Princess from the russian fairy-tale (not to be confused with the Disney movie "The Princess and the Frog").
> 
> Several quotes from the teachers (such as Zelena's speech about lateness, or Maastricht's plan to make students pick the next one to be interrogated) are from Tumblr. I will never escape this hellsite.
> 
> None of the poetry is mine. These are random quote and poems saved on my computer beacause i liked them. I think I found most of them on Tumblr.


	7. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life of Castia Goodwitch, sixteen, hormonal teenager.

They celebrated the New Year. Students staying at the Academy had a party in the cafeteria, with a few teachers who had volunteered to keep an eye on them. James Ironwood wasn’t part of it. He spent the whole evening at a fancy party attended by the cream of Atlesian society. Castia knew about it because he sent her a text every half-hour to rant against a politician or complain about a rich business owner. He apparently meet Jacques Schnee here, and every word that bastard said made James want to high-five him in the face with a chair.

Amber spent the New Year… somewhere. Probably in Mistral since she mentioned taking a ship and sailing for days after crashing her car. She got very drunk and happily texted Castia a bunch of disjoined and badly spelled messages about finally losing the dumb bird trailing her, so Castia was going to assume she had ditched Qrow. Well, good for her.

Laura ate too much cake and was sick. Peter started experimenting with cocktails and was banned from the alcohol’s vicinity. Castia discovered she could dance and that it was fun, and she had a great time. Erin and Clover were home with their family, but sent a message to wish them a happy new year. Then the holidays ended, Erin came back to school… and it was time to go back to class.

James went away for a mission, which cut down Castia’s training time. So she noticed when Laura and Peter went away to train, almost every day. She also noticed that during that time, Erin disappeared to. She followed her once and found her in the deserted music classroom, playing guitar. So she was a musician… Well, everyone had their secret. Castia went away without a sound.

Anyway. Without her usual sparring partner, she turned toward Team RFLE to train, but they weren’t always available. Castia was reticent to approach her classmates. They were so boring. She didn’t care for them. For gods’ sake, it had been six months and she didn’t even know all of their names! Robyn seemed to pick up her discomfort, thankfully, and instead suggested to introduce her to older students, more challenging to fight with. Nobody ignored that Castia Goodwitch was far stronger than the average first year. Sure, her technique could use some work. She was still in training after all. But the sheer power of her Semblance was kind of her own personal cheat-code. Without teammates she had to worry about injuring in the crossfire, she was a weapon of mass destruction.

So Robyn introduced her to Lionel Greenleaf and his teammates.

“Why not?” Lionel said cheerfully when Robyn boldly walked to him in the courtyard with Castia in town in to introduce them and suggest they train. “Lily mentioned you, you know. It could be cool to test our dueling skills!”

Lionel was as tall as James and had even wider shoulders. It made him appear a bit intimidating. But he had a friendly face, warm golden eyes, and a dazzling smile. Castia couldn’t help but smile too, feeling a bit giddy:

“Oh? What did she said about me?”

“That fighting you was a bit like fighting a Nevermore,” promptly replied Lionel with a wink. “That’s a compliment for her. I’ll admit, I’m a bit curious about seeing how a pretty girl like you can pack that much of a punch.”

“Er…” stammered Castia, who had never once in her like been called _pretty girl_ by a handsome guy winking at her and comparing her to a giant Grimm at the same time. “Well, you’ll find out if we spar.”

She immediately wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Oh gods, that was so lame. Where did her witty comebacks go?! Why couldn’t she have said something quirky like ‘ _If she compares me to a simple Nevermore I clearly didn’t hit hard enough_ ’ or even something confidently feminist like ‘ _I’m way more than a pretty face, sweetheart_ ’? But noooo, she had to be lame. Shame on her.

“With pleasure,” Lionel easily replied. “I have missions as a Huntsman, so I won’t be here regularly, but… I’m available tomorrow. What about you?”

“Hum, I have class until four o’clock.”

“That works for me,” he smiled. “It’s a date!”

And he smiled brightly again. Gods, he was handsome. And charming. Agh. Why was Castia unable to say something clever? She felt tongue-tied, cheeks burning, smiling like an idiot. But Lionel continued seamlessly:

“So, classes, uh? I don’t miss professor Bole’s lessons one bit. What about you, what classes do you have?”

They started talking, and Castia slowly relaxed. He was confident, perhaps a bit cocky, but he wasn’t patronizing. He introduced Castia to his sister Joanna Greenleaf (who was as gigantic as him, didn’t smile nearly half as much, and was mostly scowling like a grumpy bear) and to the last member of their group, May Marigold (who was blunt and sarcastic, but also seemed the only one who could make Joanna crack a smile). Castia didn’t exactly know how to lead the conversation, but Lionel didn’t seem to mind, easily filling silences with chit-chat and dumb jokes. He was friendly… No, scratch that, he was _flirty_. He didn’t even try to hide it. He teasingly complimented her hair, then her eyes, then her good reputation as a fighter. He leaned toward her, he smiled, he touched her arm or her elbow to attract her attention. And Castia… Well, Castia floundered a bit, because she was wildly unprepared to it, but she giggled at his jokes, blushed at his compliments, and accepted his invasion of her personal space. When Lionel had to leave, dragged to his economics class by his sister, he waved at her and she waved back, smiling. She kept smiling for five more seconds after he had left the courtyard. Then she let her head fall in her hands, and groaned. Fuck you, teenage hormones.

“Yeah,” smirked Robyn. “That was Lionel. Don’t worry, he looks like a player but he doesn’t really mean anything by it.”

“He doesn’t?” Castia repeated plaintively, then immediately scowled at herself because she really had no reason to sound disappointed. For gods’ sake, Castia, get a grip already. It was a fifteen-minute conversation, what did it matter if he had smiled eleven times? Why had she even _noticed_ how many times he had smiled?!

“He is a huge flirt,” laughed Robyn. “But it doesn’t have to make you uncomfortable…”

Well, Castia was uncomfortable, true, but mostly because she was awkward and socially inept, not because she minded having the attention of a gorgeous guy that made her laugh.

“I’m very comfortable,” she muttered, hoping her blush had subdued.

“Uh uh,” smirked Robyn, clearly not believing her. “Anyway, he’s not going to make a move, don’t worry. He’s not a horny teenager, he’s an adult, and he knows how to keep his hands to himself. Being in a team full of girls able to kick his ass into next week tends to teach this lesson pretty quickly.”

“True,” Castia agreed, sighing.

Ugh. It had slipped her mind, but Robyn was right. Lionel was _twenty-one_. That was five years older. Why couldn’t she blush and bat her eyelashes at someone her own age? But Castia already know why. She had a teenage body and a teenage brain, but her tastes were definitely wired toward the partners more age-appropriate for her past-self. I mean, others teenagers didn’t even _register_ as dating prospects. If, once in a blue moon, she noticed a boy’s square jawline or nice smile, those people were usually in their mid-twenties. Long story short: she liked older people. Well, older guys, specifically. The idea of dating a teenager, even if it was someone a bit older than her, mostly made her want to wrinkle her nose and say ‘ _no thank you_ ’ with the same tone of voice she would have used to turn down a plate of raw asparagus.

Which was a thing that _didn’t_ happen when staring at Lionel. Because he was hot and _adult_. And she was still a freaking minor. Sure, she had a more mature mind that others people her age, but she still was a _teenager_. It wasn’t just a physical limitation, it was a _legal_ one, and she really didn’t want to toe that red line. Ugh. Life was complicated. She mentally made a sad little note: she could look, but not touch. Damn.

So. That was a thing.

Of course, everyone in her (limited) circle of acquaintance immediately knew about it. It was obviously Erin’s fault. How did that girl manage to learn gossip at light-speed, she would never know. So for the next twenty-four hours, everyone grinned at her, looking delighted by the way her cheeks and ears turned bright red when someone made a not-so-innocent comment. Castia tried to remain unflappable, but it was no use. Her newfound interest was the topic of all their banter. She wasn’t bothered by it, not really. Well, she _was_ but not to the point of being annoyed: she found it weird, and funny, and embarrassing, but she liked it. They didn’t made fun of her, or ridicule her. If anything, they laughed about Lionel’s flirty attitude. They just pestered her with questions and smirked like they were all on a big secret. Was it was normal ‘girl talk’ looked like? Castia had no idea. Until the Academy, she had more or less been a monk.

But it wasn’t so bad. The jokes were funny and she felt both embarrassed and giddy. Robyn took it in strides and Lily found it very hilarious. Even the shy Fiona laughed. Clover was more subdued, unlike his cousin. Erin was almost bouncing in her seat, avidly prying for any juicy details. Peter was mostly uninterested, but he couldn’t help but join in the fun, smirking at the other’s jokes. Laura was the worst: she waggled her eyebrows, made lecherous jokes (Clover was indignant) and she saw Lionel in the hall she made a point to ogle him, then turned to Castia and winked. At this point Castia couldn’t help but hide her face in her hand, torn between laughter and mortification. Laughter won out. She had enough self-confidence to not feel ashamed of her own feelings, in any case.

Come on, she barely knew the guy! She didn’t have a crush on him, and anyone who said she did was fucking lying, but she admired his _spirit_ , okay? She admired the way his spirit looked in a pair of jeans. His spirit was buff as hell.

(That last comment was from Erin, but Castia approved.)

Anyway. The next day, after class, she met with Lionel for training in one of the Academy’s training ground, a large field full of ruins and overruns by weeds and trees. It was a good place: there were corner to hide in, high spots to jump from, and she didn’t particularly have to worry about damaging things.

May Marigold wasn’t here, but Joanna was, grumpily polishing her crossbow. Laura and Peter were supposed to train together, but Castia was eighty percent sure she had seen them sneaking behind the building to spy on her training. Well, she didn’t care. They already knew how she fought, and she had nothing to hide. She would chew them out later for being nosy, but she wasn’t going to turn tail and run away because she found a guy _attractive_. Yeah, it was a bit embarrassing, but it wasn’t that intimidating. I mean, she wasn’t really at ease with people in general, but the idea of physical attraction didn’t petrify her like a normal teenagers. She had lived this before, remember? Granted, her memories weren’t crystal clear but… Unlike all the kids who lived through puberty feeling like it was the end of the world, Castia didn’t feel like that _because she knew it wasn’t_.

So what if she couldn’t help but smile and giggle when he grinned at her? So what if she felt a bit self-conscious about her hair, about her clothes, about her posture? So what if she liked the way he talked and flirted? What if she found his dumb jokes charming? It was harmless. It wasn’t going to alter her life-goal or anything, it was just… a pleasant distraction. Or rather, a distraction very pleasant to look at.

“So!” cheerfully exclaimed Lionel when she arrived. “How do you want me, Castia?”

Alright, _that_ was completely on purpose. Castia scowled, her cheeks flaming. But now she was prepared, her mind wasn’t completely blank, so she hoped she wasn’t blushing like a fire-truck and replied snidely:

“However you want. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.”

Lionel didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish or even taken aback. He threw his head back and laughed, delighted.

“You have spunk! I like it. So, let’s lay down the rules, shall we?”

“Alright,” she agreed. “Standard dueling rules, we stop when Aura enters the red?”

“And collateral damage is allowed,” he added. “That meant the forest, the trees, the ruins, but nothing outside of the training ground.”

Sweet. Castia grinned, feeling the familiar excitation preceding a fight starting to buzz in her veins, and bounced slightly on her feet.

“All weapons allowed? Long-range, close range, hand-to-hand combat? And Semblance, too? What is your Semblance by the way?”

“Air Pressure”, he smirked. “It’s exactly what it way on the tin. Air bullet, wind blasts… I can give your Telekinesis a run for its money, I bet!”

Then he shook his head and said more seriously:

“Alright for our Semblances, but let’s not use long-ranged weapons. I can’t have free ammunitions like you. The Academy cover what I use in missions, but if we trash this place I’m not going to get a refund.”

“So blades, Semblances, and hand-to-hand combat,” Castia summarized. “No collateral damage outside the field, but inside is fair game. No outside help, no grievous injuries, and we stop when Aura fall at twenty percent or when one of us surrender. All good?”

“All good,” he smiled. “Let’s synchronize our Scrolls. Joanna will be our referee.”

Aura strength, as a proportion of maximum potential, could be electronically monitored from their Scroll. In the training rooms, there was a big screen above the fighters connected to their respective Scrolls so everyone could see their Aura level, but it was also possible to display this reading on a third Scroll. The referee would monitor it to stop the fight when someone’s Aura dropped in the red, below twenty percent of their maximum strength.

Castia and Lionel both activated the monitoring function of their respective Scrolls, then connected them to Joanna. Their Aura level, both green, appeared on her screen next to their names. They exchanged a grin, then Lionel jumped back and whipped out his weapon. It was at first glance a machine gun, but then it transformed in a big, bulky saber with a wide guard (the magazine of the machine gun). Castia grinned and leaped back too, drawing her own weapon and deploying Twin Twilight’s blades.

They measured each other up… Then Castia threw her Telekinesis like a giant hammer, and a blast of purple energy exploded right where Lionel was standing.

He evaded with a crazy somersault that looked almost like Castia’s when she used Telekinesis to propel her, and she narrowed her eyes. Well, that was interesting. She had no time to ponder how his Semblance worked, thought, because he was leaping at her with his sword drawn. She blocked with her blade, locking them in place with Telekinesis to make up for their difference in strength (holy cow, he was strong!), then violently pushed him again with her Semblance: but her purple explosion meet a blast of wind halfway and the resulting deflagration blasted them at least ten meters away. Castia rolled and landed on her feet, grinning fiercely. Oh she was going to have fun.

This time, she didn’t just push pure power at Lionel, she grabbed everything in the vicinity (rocks, handful of dirt, whole patches of grass, even part of a destroyed wall) and threw it at him. With a roar, Lionel created a huge wind blast, almost like a deflagration, that pushed the projectiles away from him (and nearly made Castia fell flat on her ass). For a few seconds they battled with their Semblance, trading lightning-fast blow: projectiles, blasts of wind, pressurized air-bullet that wheezed a hair away from Castia or crashed in her glyph-shield with a hiss. Then they started dancing around the attacks, avoiding instead of blocking to focus more energy in their own offensives, and it turned in a crazy game of cat and mouse. They chased each other while flinging destructives attacks in all directions. They took some hits but managed to avoid or shield themselves from most of the damages. The surrounding areas were not so lucky. Trees cracked, the wind howled, the ground was torn apart; when they brought their fight to the ruins, Castia’s explosions pulverized a wall, and Lionel’s wind tore off a roof. The two elemental forces commanded by their respective Semblance collided like giants, drowning the whole word with their roaring. It wasn’t an agility contest, or an elegant duel, it was brute force, pure and simple. It was wild, it was savage, and Castia could feel the electricity saturating the air, similar to the heaviness in the atmosphere right before a storm. Her heart was beating wildly, and she felt an exhilarated laugh bubbling in a chest. Her whole body was thrumming with energy, she attacked, reacted, leaped forward, riposted, evaded, charged, or jumped. It was great, it was terrifying, it was _awesome_.

Telekinesis was more powerful, but Lionel was moving with the slightest air current, avoiding flying rubble and bursts of purple energy with incredible agility and then giving as good as he got with explosions of compressed air. They were closer and closer, one step at the time, each attack striking harder; and then finally, they found themselves less than ten feet from each others, and attacked with blades drawn.

Castia had fought a lot. She was child prodigy trained in a combat school; of course she had fought a lot. She had a lot of strength, even without her Semblance, but she was far from a brawler. She had technique. She wasn’t as unflappably elegant as her sister, but she was _good_. She was smooth, disciplined, precise. Oh, it wasn’t what won her fights, but it was a bonus. She knew she wasn’t as graceful as a dancer, but she was at least as nimble as a cat. But most importantly… She was fast, she hit hard, and she could handle her own.

But she had rarely fought someone at her level. She had fought people bigger than her, meaner than her, faster than her, but she had never fought _stronger_ , not really. Even with Ironwood, who probably pulled his punches even when he kicked her ass. But Lionel was holding nothing back and she quickly realized that in terms of raw strength, he was _way fucking too much above her level_. Suddenly the tables had turned: he was the more powerful and she could barely keep up by being the more agile. She was reduced to dodging most of the time, twisting, jumping, blocking, blades flying in all direction and steel ringing at every impact. By now, with all the power they had unleashed and the hits they had taken, both of them had their Aura in the yellow. Damn, attacking him at close range had been a mistake. She gritted her teeth and redoubled efforts, enhancing her strikes with Telekinesis, making him step back. But suddenly he made a move, and an air bullet hit her in the chest so violently that her feet left the ground: she hadn’t expected it, hadn’t anchored herself of her Semblance or shielded herself with her Aura. She went flying, the wind knocked out of her. Still, she unleashed a blast of Telekinesis to push Lionel back just so she could fall back on her feet; she rolled safely behind the explosion, got back up with her words raised…

There was a loud, resounding buzz. Everyone froze.

“Match over!” yelled Joanna from the edge of the field. “Castia’s Aura is in the red!”

Out of breath, and not lowering her swords, Castia checked her Scroll. With that last hit, her Aura had reached twenty percent. Fuck! She hadn’t paid attention, she was so stupid! Gritting her teeth, she looked at Lionel’s reading. His Aura was still at twenty-seven percent, in the yellow zone. Damnit… He had won.

Catching her breath, she sheathed her weapon, taking in the complete destruction surrounding them. Trees were broken like twigs. There was barely any grass left on the upturned ground, and huge trenches or big craters everywhere. The ruins were now pretty much rubble. She winced. _Outch_. She had had a lot of fun, but it was kind of chilling to see how destructive she could be when she was… Well, not even furious, just a bit reckless with her strength. Damn, she hoped that the teachers wouldn’t be too mad…

“Hey!” Lionel exclaimed, jogging toward her and waving. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she smiled, feeling a bit dumb. “I just… Well, I didn’t know we were going to wreck the place like that.”

He laughed, rubbing his neck a bit sheepishly:

“Yeah, it’s impressive. I thing most of it is your fault, actually. Some trees are me, and that building over there, but Air Pressure just isn’t strong enough to do all the rest. By the Gods, you don’t beat around the bush!”

“I guess I don’t,” muttered Castia, still not really happy about her loss.

“In any case,” he continued with a smirk, “I can totally get why Lily told that you were like a Nevermore. That was pretty awesome.”

That was comforting. She relaxed, and smiled a bit shyly:

“Thanks. You fought well too.”

“Thanks,” he answered with a grin. “You had me scared once or twice with your Semblance. It’s like taking a locomotive to the face.”

“I should have kept at the long ranged attacks,” she scowled. “I hadn’t realized you’ll be so much stronger than me.”

It still stung. She had made a stupid mistake. That guy was like a head and half taller than her, with a body like a Greek god, and _she hadn’t realized he could hit harder than her_. It was a dumb mistake. When she trained with Ironwood, she never thought about it because they fought at long-range, with agility and precision. Even when they fought in hand-to-hand, it never became a show of force; it was always a lesson in technique and precision. She had grown overconfident. Seriously, she wasn’t even seventeen yet, she had no chance to overpower a grown man.

“Well,” he winked at her, “you’ll be more prepared next time. By the way, Wrecking Ball, do you mind giving me your Scroll’s number?”

And that’s how Castia ended up with a pretty boy’s number in her Scroll, and a training date for next week.

**oOoOoOo**

Castia was well aware that Lionel didn’t have the slightest romantic interest in her. She was a kid for him. Or, well not a kid, because he really flirted _a lot_ , but… Not someone to be taken seriously. If he had been interested, he would have invited her to a café or a movie, like normal people did. He would have made conversation, asked about her. But no, he offered her to train again then hightailed before any teacher could come and see who had wrecked the place. Well, ok. That was fine too. She was just a bit annoyed at herself for wanting more.

“Lionel is a cool guy,” Clover had said when prodded about him. “He’s very popular, he’s nice, straight-A student, tournament champion, everything. But he is very… unrestrained when he fight, and his Semblance is destructive, so there aren’t much people who train with him for fun.”

“And he can be annoying,” Fiona added with hesitation. “He is a show-off, and kind of obnoxious sometimes.”

“Which make him the perfect partner for you to beat up,” smirked Robyn.

“Or hit on!” Lily laughed.

Yeah, right. Still, it was nice to have another sparring partner, and the fact that she soaked up his attention was a bonus. She resisted sending him an avalanche of texts, but only barely. She managed by reporting everything to Amber. Right now she didn’t even care that the Maiden was uninterested by her (completely inexistent) love life, she just needed to spill the beans to someone. And that someone couldn’t be her usual friends, since they already knew and had started to move on from their teasing. She really didn’t want them to focus on her again.

They trained the week after. Castia gathered her courage and tried to make conversation, but she wasn’t very successful. He was friendly and flirty, sure, but he wasn’t interested by any in depth discussion. He didn’t mind chatting, but mostly to tease her with little innuendos. He looked delighted when she joked back, but was uninterested with others topics. For example… When she tried to ask about what he wanted to do later, he airily replied that he wanted to be an officer because he would look good in uniform. Which, alright, true. But not the point. Ugh. And when Castia tried to analyze their fight, he winked at her, calling her a smart strategist (which always made her blush, flattered) then left to go to class or meet up with friends.

Sure, Lionel was kind-hearted, funny, friendly, clever, a good fighter. But he didn’t reveal much depth. He didn’t talk about what he liked to do, what motivated him, what he hated, who he really was. He was just a flirt. Castia knew that. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t attracted to him _because_ he was kind, funny, and clever. If she did that, then she would talk herself into circles and maybe even persuade herself there was some depth to her feelings. No. She was attracted to him because he was gorgeous and he made her laugh. Noticing the rest was a side-effect. He had a charming personality, true, but what she knew about him, about what kind of person he was, was shallow at best. So was her attraction: shallow.

She knew that, objectively, but she still flushed crimson when he made a good innuendo, she still giggled at his puns, and she still was way too pleased with herself when she managed to make him chuckle with a pun. She liked him. It was dumb but it was human. She had a crush.

Yeah, she was calling it a crush. She was a brave woman. She was facing the facts. Lionel was hot and funny, hormones were a things, she had a crush. Tadam.

Erin found it very funny and loved to poke fun at Castia, but the others had found others stuff to care about. There were going to have missions soon. Alright, not really _missions_. For the first years, it was mostly going to be field trips. Some reconnaissance, a minimum of fighting, and all of it under the supervision of a competent Huntsman. Second years were still led by a licensed Huntsman but were going to have slightly more difficult tasks, like patrols with the risk of fending off an attack and having to deal with panicked civilians, or quick raid on Grimm nests. Third years were the only ones going on missions without a seasoned veteran leading them.

Team ECLP would have one of the easy missions. All the first years had been allowed to look at the Academy Mission Board to familiarize themselves with the ranking and everything, even if the missions would only be given in February, in three weeks. It was actually pretty interesting. Missions were categorized by likeliness of encountering Grimm, type of Grimm and numbers, risk of meeting bandits, duration, meteorological conditions (it was _desert tundra_ , after all), distance from eventual back-up… It was very organized. Military-like, almost. Which make sense, actually, since it was Atlas… Most of that intel probably came from the military.

Speaking of the military! James Ironwood came back from his mission. Castia was happy to have her sparring partner back, although she sure wouldn’t turn Lionel down if he offered another date for a rematch. Still, while with Lionel she had worked on pure strength, with James she worked on aerial maneuverability, and she couldn’t do that with anyone else. There was nobody else who could fly, or at least propel themselves in the air like that. 

Since Team ECLP would be accompanied by a Huntsman for their field trip, and that all those Huntsmen were part of the Academy (most of them came from the revolving set of fighter that taught them on Thursday and Friday), Castia asked James if he was going to come. It would have been fun to destroy Grimm together, as they had during the summer with that pack of Beowolves. But James regretfully told her he had military work to do for at least two months. Maybe for the next field trip, in April.

Castia briefly entertained the notion of Glynda’s accompanying Beacon’s students on their own missions. If she had been a student at Beacon, she would have been with her sister. She could have showed her, on the field, how good she was. And maybe Glynda would have realized it, then, maybe she would have apologized for holding her back… If Castia had waited a year, if she had just submitted to Glynda’s over-protectiveness…

But no. It wasn’t who she was. She had made her choice, or maybe her choice had been made for her the second she had realized what Glynda had done behind her back. And there was no going back. There was no use thinking about how cool it would have been to show off, to demonstrate her power, to prove to Glynda she was strong. It was too late. She had tried to work hard to prove herself to Glynda, and it hadn’t worked. She was done desperately craving an approval she wouldn’t get. If you find yourself constantly trying to prove your worth to someone, you have already forgotten your value: and Castia knew that she deserved better than to be placed under dome because her sister couldn’t handle the thought that she was a warrior, and that this war was also hers.

(But Gods, going on a mission with her older sister had been _her whole childhood dream._ How couldn’t she feel bitter at the thought of finally going in the field a whole continent away from Glynda?)

Anyway. Missions. Team ECLP had a hard time deciding which one to get, because they kept being side-tracked. By their friends, for example. Team RFLE was excited at the prospect. Robyn was taking her role of team leader very seriously and had them repeat most of their team maneuvers during training, so that they would be on point when the time would come. Team ECLP tried to do the same, but they didn’t have much in terms of team maneuvers. Laura and Peter had more than a dozen of moves combining their Semblance, they were an awesome duo, but Erin and Castia worked better in solo. Still, they managed to create some maneuvers where Castia launched them in the sky, or where she created glyph-shield and disassembled them just with the right timing for Peter’s railgun to strike, or that sort of thing.

Erin was actually the more flexible of the team, and not only because she could twist like pretzel: she could work well with anyone. Her only problem was that she wasn’t a heavy-hitter. Sure, she could dance out of reach of an enemy she couldn’t take down in one shot, but she was reduced to short attacks and quick strikes, hoping it was enough. Neither her Semblance nor her weapons were suited to massive destruction. Well, actually, if you looked at it that way, Laura wasn’t suited to mass-destruction either: but at least she had daggers that sliced through flesh and bones, instead of a staff that needed to be swung around with force to bludgeon an enemy. Besides, her arrows used fire-dust, more destructive than Erin’s wind-dust bullets.

Team ECLP was pretty well rounded. Two heavy-hitter (Castia, and Peter to a lesser extend), and two acrobats (Erin first and Laura second). A duo that fought as one and two solo fighters, one of which able to fight as anyone’s partner and the other being a one-woman army.

Anyway. Erin lacked destructive power, but Laura simply asked why Peter didn’t made her a few grenades, and everyone stayed silent for a second while absorbing that blinding ray of common sense (which sidetracked them _again_ from choosing a mission). Thus Peter made grenades not only for Erin but for the whole team, and had a bit of fun with them too. His grenades were a great variety: most were purely explosive, with more or less power, but he also had blinding grenades, deafening ones, and others that made toxic smoke (mostly soporific gas, although he wanted to try his hand at laughing gas to see if artificial laughter drove Grimm away). All of them generated a thick grey smoke. For his teammates, through, Peter played with colors.

Erin’s grenades made sky-blue smoke, a bit darker than her turquoise eyes, matching the blue of her dress. Laura’s were orange (obviously) with a tingle of gold. Castia were bright purple. Not exactly the color of her Semblance, but close enough. She was thrilled. She didn’t have much use for explosive grenades since Telekinesis could do explosions, so Peter mostly gave her blinding and deafening grenades. If they had to fight people, it could be better to disorient them and disable them that way, rather than toss them around with her Semblance. Gods knew it wasn’t the softest toll to use. She still remembered the crater James Ironwood had made when she had tossed him in a wall during training or, more recently, what Lionel had said… ‘ _It’s like taking a locomotive to the face_.’ That did _not_ sound very appropriate to handle fragile people who didn’t have an Aura to protect them. If she had to fight criminals, Castia wanted to _arrest_ them, not break then in half.

But explosions were cool so she still took some explosive grenades. She justified herself by saying that she wanted to see if she could shoot it in the open mouth of a big Grimm and blow it up from the inside. Now _that_ would be fun.

“You’re so weird,” Laura said fondly when Castia justified her need for one explosive purple grenade.

“You don’t like the idea of blowing up Grimm?” Erin raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Oh, no, not that,” Laura made a dismissive gesture; “you could fit the fucks I gave into a matchbox and still have room for the matches. It’s that you could do it yourself but still want to play with explosives.”

“There’s nothing wrong with playing with explosives,” muttered Peter who had a minimum of twelve grenades on his person at all times.

Castia ignored her, leaning toward Laura and frowning thoughtfully:

“Well, you’re not wrong. I could do it myself. But I know that can do it myself, so why not experiment a bit?”

“Well, because instead of pointless experiments, which may even be wasting resources, you could focus on getting better, of course!”

That was… an interesting point. Castia hadn’t really thought about it. She was already plenty strong enough. Sure, getting better was always good, it was necessary even (with the world of Remnant being what it was) but it wasn’t _urgent_.

“I could,” she agreed slowly. “But I have enough raw power to allow myself a bit of fun. Besides, that grenade is going to explode a Grimm. Even if it’s a Grimm that I could have killed another way… that’s not wasting resources.”

Laura blinked, then shrugged:

“True. I’m guess I’m just a bit thrifty.”

Castia mentally added it to her list of clues about Laura’s past. Hadn’t gone to combat school except to pass graduation exams, probably as training for the Academy’s entrance exam; had been good enough to pass said entrance exam with no problem; didn’t talk about her family; hated injustice to the point of fury; was vicious and cunning and righteous; had been born in Vacuo but had grow up in Mantle; never went back there despite it being just a shuttle ride away; was a Faunus used to fighting dirty…

Castia wasn’t a nosy person, or at least she didn’t think so. She backed off if people didn’t want her to pry. But she noticed stuff, and she asked questions. So she couldn’t help but prod a little:

“Besides, versatility is good. Most of your style is based on versatility, not on pure power.”

“Versatility _is_ my pure power,” Laura countered. “I’m not a tank like you and Peter. I have to get better at what I can do, what I can do is being slippery and stabby. Which is good, but not enough if I want to be a famous Huntress.”

That was new. Castia and Erin both boggled at her. Peter didn’t bat an eyelash, probably because he already knew, but Castia could hardly wrap her mind around it. Laura wanted to be _famous_?! She had never showed the slightest interest in popularity. She didn’t talk to any of their classmates; she scoffed disdainfully at the idea of joining a tournament; she didn’t like being in the spotlight…

“What?!” Laura said defiantly.

“Nothing!” Erin and Castia said at the same time.

“It’s just that you don’t usually like having people’s attention,” Castia said delicately (while stomping on Erin’s foot to stop her from saying something tactless).

“Well I don’t want to be some prissy dueling champion who can only beat up people one-one-one,” Laura sniffed disdainfully. “I want to be great Huntress, famous for killing Grimm, protecting people. I want…”

She paused for a second, almost hesitating. Then she squared her shoulder, looked her teammates in the eyes, and declared hotly:

“I want to prove that the Faunus are just as good as human at that, and for that I need to be known.”

Something in Castia’s mind clicked then, like the satisfying sound of a key turning in a lock, and all the little pieces of information found their places in the big puzzle. That was it, _that was Laura’s deal_. She fought for a _cause_. She fought so she could get to that place where she could institute equality from the top level.

Laura wasn’t done, and she continued, raising her voice:

“And I just don’t want to prove it to _humans_. Faunus need to hear it too. I want all the Faunus to stop thinking their choices are either to live apart, to submit, or to make war! We can all live together, we are good people, and we deserve better. And I’m going to prove it! I want to show them that. I want… I want to inspire people, I want someone to look at me and say ‘because of you I didn’t give up’. Because… Being a Huntress is so much more than killing monsters. It’s about setting an example, too!”

There was a short, stunned silence. _Equality_. Of course. Castia hadn’t been able to see it because she hadn’t realized that there _was_ a cause, because she was human and very much not affected by Faunus social issues… But it was so glaringly obvious she now felt like an idiot. Laura was a Faunus, a fox-Faunus, from lower-class probably, and she almost certainly had been subjected to racism every day of her life. She wanted justice. She wanted _equality_. But even if she was furious and spiteful, Laura valued fairness and honesty. She valued fairness more than spite, actually, which was probably why she was in an Academy and not in a terrorist group. So she had decided to fight for equality by… leading by example.

“That’s really ambitious,” Erin said cautiously.

Yeah, right, so she found it unrealistic, like Glynda had found Castia’s dream of making the Grimm disappear. Laura scowled, and Castia jumped at her defense before that even Peter could open his mouth:

“Hey, I think that’s great. Dream big. Ambition is not a dirty word. Piss on compromise, and go for the throat.”

The smile Laura gave her was small, almost tentative.

“You believe in me?”

Castia’s grin faltered, taken aback. She had never been brave enough to ask that question out loud to anyone. She hadn’t even thought to ask it: she always been too afraid of the answer. It was always there, like a subtext in every conversation when she opened up about her dream, but she had never dared to voice it so frankly. Not to Ozpin, the first person to ever hear about her dream. Not to James Ironwood, her first real friend. Not even to her sister, when she had been nine and still wholeheartedly believed in Glynda’s love and trust.

How could she have been so afraid to ask? But most importantly, how could nobody have told her those words she so desperately had needed to hear?

“Yes,” she said softly. “Of course I believe in you.”

This time, the smile Laura gave her was blinding. Peter moved slightly: Castia was almost sure he had touched her knee or something in a gesture of silent support, and she suddenly wondered if those two had started dating. They still bickered like the first day, but they were more tactile.

“All of us,” added Erin in a low tone, unusually serious. “And if you need help… Well, we’re here. Even if it’s just to hold your bag while you embed people into walls.”

Laura snorted, and her shoulders relaxed:

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

There was a short silence. Castia mentally re-sorted Laura in Hufflepuff. Yes, even though she was vengeful and headstrong. She really belonged here. She did have strong Slytherin traits, sure. But she was the kind of person who, instead of saying ‘ _the world isn’t fair!_ ’ like all the pessimists, would rather say ‘ _then I will make it fair_ ’. And that was… Well, kind of revealing.

“So,” Castia finally said to break the silence. “Which mission are we taking, in the end? Because since we’re apparently cursed into not making a decision, I vote that we all let Erin picks, so we can blame her if it goes wrong.”

“Hey!”

**oOoOoOo**

Weeks passed, slowly. Amber spent a good week completely radio silent before reappearing and gleefully retelling how she had saved a town from bandits, going to extra-lengths to avoid being seen and having to abandon her precious anonymity. Castia congratulated her (and wasn’t surprised to find that Amber had already forgotten her long texts waxing poetry about Lionel’s eyes or smile), and told her a bit about what was going on in Atlas. She could now hold her own against Team RFLE, if she didn’t have to care about her teammates, but not win a match against them. Her own teammates weren’t at her level, but they were good. They managed to pick a mission, a brief reconnaissance on a miners’ settlement that could maybe be reconverted in a military outpost.

Life went on. Lionel and his team left for a mission, and Castia’s friend teased her about his absence. She rolled her eyes and accepted it good-naturally, and kicked their ass the next day at training. It was very satisfying.

She was starting to realize that she loved this life, this place, everything. Why hadn’t she tried to apply to Atlas Academy last year, instead of letting Glynda derail her?! She loved it here. She hadn’t been unhappy in the Vale, but she had been lonely. No here. She didn’t really could put her feelings in words, but when she received texts from her dad and that he offhandedly mentioned that she could visit, she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here. It was her life now.

And she had no idea how to tell him. So she kept silent, and immersed herself in her life in Atlas Academy.

Castia didn’t have another chance to spar with James Ironwood, who was too busy, but they continued to exchange text messages and even talked on the phone twice. It wasn’t as fun as sparring, but it was nice to talk with her friend. Castia usually glossed over the boring details like what was in today’s lessons, because James had graduated from the Academy years ago and already knew this stuff. She stuck to funny anecdotes, or personal thoughts. For example, she told him about her grenades, and how Team ECLP was probably quickly going to be renamed ‘Team Explosion’. Or she gleefully recounted some conversation with Team RFLE about how their first mission, when they were firsties, had gone so sideway that it had ended with five detentions, one being _for their teacher_ , and a Nevermore trapped in a Dust mine, which was _not the place where a flying Grimm was supposed to go_. Or she compared their progress, mentally trying to see how much they had improved. But she also told him, quietly, about Laura’s dream to be an inspiration to Faunus in the world. She told him about how jealous she was, sometimes, that Erin managed to fight well with anyone, but herself was too much of a solo fighter to manage to flow seamlessly in someone else’s fight.

There was some things she left out, things that felt stupid, like the fact that she had been wanting to hear ‘ _I believe in you’_ her whole life but had only realized it when she had told those words to someone else. Or the fact that she felt a bit awkward about letting Peter read her poetry that one time, and she hadn’t really touched her notebook since. Or the fact that she had a crush on Lionel.

The last thing was probably the most stupid of all. Lionel was also a _sparring partner_. She had learned useful things while fighting him. It had been a valuable lesson. She had started to develop new moves based on their fight, to use when fighting a physically stronger opponent. But still, she felt self-conscious just imagining mentioning him to James. He was her friend but really, she didn’t want to go and talk about _boys_ with him. It would be too awkward, and not only because James was the kind of guy who fled by his window when faced with a pretty girl offering him flowers. It was just… weird.

She usually didn’t pay much attention to their age gap. Glynda was her elder by _eleven years_ , so she was what, three years older than James? And she had been her best friend her whole life. So no, Castia didn’t really think about it. But it was exactly the kind of situation where she realized she was a teenager with very teenage-y troubles, and that James Ironwood was a grown-up adult with a job and everything.

They weren’t equal. It was a bit frustrating, because Castia was self-aware enough to know that, and to also know it was dumb to be annoyed by it. But the truth was that there was a natural unbalance in their relationship. It would maybe fade with time, when Castia would be a grown-up adult with a job too, but it still existed. It was why James stepped so easily in the role of a mentor, in addition to being a friend. Or why he didn’t confide himself about his childhood or family or just his younger years. He held himself to a higher standard than a simple friend, because he was the older one and implicitly saw himself as, well, the responsible one, who was supposed to provide help and guidance.

Well, part of it was probably because he was an adult used to being in a position of authority. But part of it probably just came from the fact that James’ default mode was to give help and guidance to anyone who looked like they needed it…

So yeah, it bothered her a little. But in the grand scheme of thing, not much. She had become friend with James in the first place because he was an idealistic dreamer like her, not because she was deluding herself into thinking that they stood on equal footing. If she wanted teenagers to banter with about teenager stuff, she had her team. Grown-up with a job or not, James was still her friend. Actually, he may very well been her first real friend…

Anyway. The fact that he had a job in the military was so integral to his character that she could hardly imagine him without. He talked about it… a lot. Oh, he never told her anything classified, of course, but he _loved_ talking about his work. Not even the big stuff, just what went on during his day. Some colonel had decided to redistribute resources and there was a four-hour long meeting planned about it even thought they could just do in two; some secretary had spilled coffee on the table and had been yelled at by her boss; a Specialist had put in a request to change teams, which didn’t happen often; there was party James was trying to avoid going to, but he didn’t want to be rude… Castia listened to him speak with a fond smile on her face, innocently dropping a question or a remark just at the right moment to send him ranting about another topic when he was starting to trail off. She liked listening to his stories. He never talked about others people like it was gossip, like Erin did, dissecting their lives with delectation. All of these people were very much human, with feelings and motivations, and it showed in his narrative. He wondered if the secretary wasn’t too shaken, if the Specialist had trouble with his teammates, if the Colonel had asked for his subordinates’ input. He regretted letting down the officer who expected him at the party, he fretted about accumulating retard in his work, he explained how he was trying to fit some training time in his schedule. James hadn’t lied; he was a very busy man.

Anyway. When it was time for Team ECLP to go on their mission, James texted her like five times to remind her to pack an extra Scroll, to have warm clothes, and other minor details. Forget Hufflepuff, that man was Molly Weasley. Castia groused a bit but it was good advice, so… She followed it. She did nag him about being a mother hen, thought, right until the moment where they waited for their designated leader (a licensed Huntsman who had taught them about three classes) to come and pick them up.

“Who you’re texting?” Erin piped up with curiosity, sitting on the railing with her legs kicking the air.

“An overprotective friend who is fretting that I forgot my earmuffs,” Castia grumbled without any real heat.

“You have earmuffs?!” grinned Laura who looked delighted by that information.

“You have _friends_?” said Peter at the same time, raising both eyebrows.

The weather was a bit warmer than in December, but barely. They all wore warm coats, scarves, and gloves. Peter even had a hat. But no, no earmuffs. Castia’s pale blonde hair, which now almost reached her mid-back, was let free to keep her warm, and that was it.

“You’re a dick,” Castia said to Peter, before turning to Laura, “and no, I don’t have earmuffs, stop trying to put stuff on my head.”

Laura loved Castia’s long hair. Her own ginger mane was wild, curly, and shoulder-length, while Castia’s was soft, long, and barely wavy. Laura didn’t want to braid it (but Castia suspected that she simply didn’t know how and was embarrassed to ask), but she pestered Castia to try on new hairstyles, headbands or hairclips whenever the occasion appeared.

“Forget about the earmuffs, I want to hear about your friend!” exclaimed Erin. “You’re the only one of us who keeps in touch with people outside the Academy.”

Well, that was downright sad. But true. Neither Laura or Peter ever received messages outside of school’s texts, and Erin barely send one text a month to one of her various sisters. Feeling bad for her friends, Castia gave in.

“Well… I actually have two friends. They’re both Huntsmen I meet last year at the Vytal Festival. We’re keeping in touch more or less regularly. One of them is in Vale, and the other in Atlas.”

“Do they have names?” avidly asked Erin. “How old are they? Did they kill a lot of Grimm? Which one is the earmuff friend? Can we meet them? Are they hot?”

“Amber and James,” Castia replied, rolling her eyes. “Twenty-two and about twenty five, yes, James, no, not as much as Lionel.”

Laura sniggered, while Peter hid a smile behind a fake cough. Erin pouted:

“Aw, come one, he is cute but you can do better. I could set you up with Clover! He’s housetrained, knows how to follow orders and really good with small animals.”

“That sound like you’re advertizing to sell a dog,” pointed Peter.

“I assure you he shred less.”

“No thanks,” grinned Castia. “But I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

The banter turned to Castia’s inexistent love live once again. Her friends prodded a bit about Amber and James, but since Castia didn’t give them much, they didn’t insist. Well, Laura and Peter did; Erin had that speculative glint in her eyes that always indicated she was going to follow juicy gossip. Bah, no matter. Castia wasn’t embarrassed: she just feel awkward telling them she had been unable to connect with people her own age for _sixteen years_ , and that her oldest friends were adults who had felt sorry for her after she had been granted a place at the Academy by pure favoritism. That kind of story didn’t make her look cool at all. Not that Castia _was_ cool, but you know, she cared a little about putting up appearances.

Then the Huntsman showed up to bring them on his mission. His name was Midas Orville, a lean man with dark blond hair and an outfit looking like a cross between Atlesian military uniform and Roman armor. He was a Specialist, working for the military. His weapon was a spear, and some kind of metallic net carefully rolled up and slung on his shoulder.

“Remember,” he said sternly while they flew toward the deserted settlement, “be on your guard. You’re out of school, so you’re actually risking your lives. The mine has been abandoned and walled up, but caverns and the likes are the favorite hideout of Grimm and there is a risk that this mine, and the settlement which interest us, have been overrun by those creatures. You will follow my orders. No unnecessary heroics. And if I tell you to run, _you run_. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” gulped Erin, while the three others nodded.

Castia made an effort to pay extra-attention. Her teammates were impressed by Orville, they were attentive and anxious, and she felt a bit self-conscious at being the only one not being…. Well, looking up the he guy supposed to teach them.

She had never looked up to any of her teachers: from kindergarten to the Academy, she had always been a bit flippant about them. Less so in the Academy, true, but it was there. It was different for normal teenagers, who were used to have role-models in their teachers, to look up to them, to trust them, to learn from them. But Castia had always been on her own, more or less. She had coexisted with her teachers but she had never admired them or learned anything important from them. For her, they were a necessary part of school, a bit like furniture, more than they were authority figures. She wasn’t straight up _dismissive_ towards them, but, well. She was listening to what they had to say in case they told something useful, but she only did it to be polite.

It had never been flagrant enough to warrant a remark, neither in her primary school neither at the Academy. But now, outside the school, in the wilderness were the danger was real, well… Maybe Castia should check her ego and try to act like an obedient and attentive student.

“Good,” Specialist Orville said. “Now, we are only here for a recon mission. Keep an eye out for Grimm but also observe the place. We have a map of the settlement we need to update, and photographs would be useful. Don’t hesitate to take some… But _don’t_ wander off on your own. Be. _Careful_.”

They landed. The shuttle turned back, and the five of them were left at the edge of the settlement… And they began the mission.

Castia half expected something like a huge attack of Grimm right away, but the place was completely empty. It was an old fortified camp, with tall stone walls, some of them eroded or collapsed in place. The buildings were bulky and square, utilitarian, with inclined roofs to make the snow slide of, but large windowsills so people could shoot from there. Most of them were whole, but some had been damaged. The roads were covered in snow, weeds, and rubble. Everything was gray, empty, and lifeless. This place was creepy.

Castia suddenly missed the Academy dearly.

They progressed slowly. First, they checked the entrance to the mine, outside the settlement. It was still completely walled up, which was a good sign. No Grimm had taken residence here… Or if they did, they had entered the mine by a natural tunnel, whose entrance was far from here. Just to be sure, Midas had them explore the mountainside for three kilometers in each direction. In the snow, it should have been very hard to see a hole in the ground… But Castia and Peter put their Semblance to word, making the snow cover lift up before letting it fall back down after checking the ground or the cliffs. Damn, Castia was mad about not thinking about doing this earlier. Lifting snow was a bit more delicate than what she usually did, but it could make for an _awesome_ snow fight. And, looking at Peter’s considering look, he had noticed too…

They stayed on their guard for more than three hours, circling the perimeter to look for possible caverns or others hiding place from where Grimm could emerge. They found nothing but a small herd of Boarbatusk, that Laura and Erin gleefully wiped out while Castia and Peter continued levitating snow. It was only when it became clear that no creature was waiting to pounce on them that Specialist Orville allowed them to relax a little. They had a short break to eat, then came back to the settlement proper to map it.

The walls were still defensible. They would need repairs, obviously, but not too much. Most of the buildings were more or less intact. The electricity didn’t work and the running water had been cut, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Some places were damaged by the passage of Grimm, but there was no trace of real fights. It was just broken doors, upturned furniture, and scratches on the floor: the beasts had searched for humans before giving up, frustrated. Those marks were old, almost erased by rain, snow and wind. But more recently there were trace of human passage. A house had its windows barricaded and there were traces of a campfire not even three days old. Maybe travelers surprised by night? They must have survived the night and be on their way, because there were no bones, nor traces of struggle. Specialist Orville declared it was good sign: people still found shelter here.

They split up in two teams to cover more ground, staying in each other’s field of vision and slowly progressing through the creepy, deserted place. They were making notes on their map of which buildings were still standing, which road was blocked by rubble, which part of the wall needed to be fixed. By now, it was pretty obvious there were no Grimm around, and they had relaxed, but still. This place gave chills. Fortunately, Specialist Orville provided some distraction, explaining or example why the roofs were at different heights. The roofs were lower close to the walls and higher near the center (where was a big round tower with an helipad on top) because it was designed so that if the Grimm got through the walls, the miners could pour as much fire at them as possible, while keeping their evacuation point (the helipad) safely defended. They could keep evacuating civilians while still fighting off the Grimm, and fight down to the last possible second.

Specialist Orville also asked them the traditional question of the first field trip. Had they killed Grimm before entering the Academy (they all said yes); when had they decided to be Huntsmen (six for Castia, five for Erin, twelve for Peter and fifteen for Laura); had they made their weapons themselves (Castia and Peter yes, Erin and Laura no); had they left the safety of the city before (yes for all of them except Erin), and why they wanted to become Huntsmen (Laura wanted to make this place fairer, Peter wanted to see the world, Erin wanted to rise to the top of the military, and Castia couldn’t handle being left out of the fight).

The only entertainment of the mission came during the night. Peter was on watch when a small pack of Beowolves crossed the city. The irony was that they hadn’t smelled or saw their group, but Peter had woken up Laura and she had yelled “ _HOLY SHIT!_ ” when she had opened her eyes to see him two inches of her face. Also, she had head-butted him hard enough to nearly break his nose. The ensuing commotion had been enough to draw the Grimm’s attention… and, fortunately, to wake up the rest of the team.

They made quick work of the Grimm, even if fighting by night was something none of them had done before. No harm done. But still… It could have ended badly. Specialist Orville didn’t yell at them (yelling wasn’t his style) but he gave them a scalding dressing-down that had Laura flushing in resentment and Peter livid with anger.

“They didn’t mean to,” pleaded Erin.

“It was just an accident!” added Castia.

“Accidents can kill as surely as ill intentions,” Specialist Orville answered sharply. “There is no need to assume malice when incompetence is sufficient.”

After that, well. There were two little fights with a bunch of Ursas attracted by the noise of the battle, and another fight against a dozen Sabyrs near dawn. They were starting to get tired. Nobody had been able to sleep. Still, they managed to complete the mission, finishing their mapping of the settlement the next day, and were picked by a shuttle in the afternoon.

All in one, Castia thought that it had been… a little anticlimactic. In canon, when Team RWBY had their first mission outside the city, they discovered a White Fang hideout and fought countless Grimm! Sure, the mission hadn’t been originally accessible to first year students, and was given to them for Plot Reasons (or Ozpin’s favoritism, take your pick), but still. They kicked ass. They took risks. They fought enough enemies, Grimm or White Fang, to fill at least two full episodes! In contrast… Team ECLIP _did_ come home tired, but it was mostly because of their lack of sleep, not because their fights had been challenging. Although they had been some close call with the Sabyrs. Fighting giant saber-toothed Grimm when running on three hours of sleep wasn’t exactly a good idea. Erin and Laura, especially, who relied on their agility, had been hard-pressed… But well, everything had been fine in the end. It was a good thing that Castia could effortlessly blast away enemies to give her allies some space, and use her Semblance to jump and sprint way beyond her tired body’s abilities. She was really a one-woman army.

Anyway. They went back to Atlas Academy. Specialist Orville left after begrudgingly telling them that, although he couldn’t in good conscience call their behavior exemplary, they had performed adequately and that he would gave them top marks for their fighting abilities. Castia sent a quick text to James to inform him that she had gotten back from her first real mission in one piece. Then they all ended up in their room, a bit bewildered. Castia had found their mission a bit disappointing, and so she was glad to be back home. But all of her teammates had tasted real life out there, and were feeling strangely off-balance at the thought that they had to go to class tomorrow.

“How can people just sit on their asses all day?” Laura bemoaned, flopping dramatically on her bed. “It’s going to be so boriiiing!”

“Yeah,” Erin agreed fervently, collapsing on a bean bag the same pink color as her hair. “I can’t wait to graduate and never have to see a math paper again.”

“Come on guys,” Castia tried, to distract them. “It’s not that bad.”

Peter boggled at her:

“Since when do you like schoolwork?!”

“Oh I don’t”, she snorted, eyeing her female teammates. “But tomorrow I can get back to admiring Lionel’s spirit.”

Both Erin and Laura rose their heads to look at her with a shit-eating grin. Soon enough, the teasing had begun, and Castia mentally patted herself on the back for a diversion well-done. And if she had to endure a bit of nagging and some lewd jokes, well… She didn’t really mind. It was all part of the Academy’s experience, right? And Castia was beginning to really like the Academy’s experience. Her teammates were eager to leave, but Castia herself couldn’t help but feel a tingle of regret at the thought.

She would miss this place. She would miss the easy camaraderie, she would miss the familiar building, she would miss the efficient organization, she would miss the thrill of learning new things and sharing them with friends. She had grown to love Atlas Academy much more than she thought she would.

It was weird to realize it only now, getting back from her first mission, but… If she could, she would never leave. Not because she was afraid of what was outside: she wanted to fight more than ever. But she had found a home here, and she was loath to leave it.

Maybe she could apply to become a teacher, latter. It would be ironical to follow Glynda’s footsteps that way, but… The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of keeping a link between her and the Academy.

But hey, she still had years before having to think about it… right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joanna Greenleaf and May Marigold are both canon characters, but Lionel Greenleaf is an OC. He's inspired by Icarus in the greek mythology. Yeah, it's not immediatly obvious, but... He has sun-golden eyes, a Semblance that can make him fly, and a reckless streak.
> 
> Midas Orville is also an OC. With the gold-themed name, armor, and Semblance, you probably guessed he's based on Midos from the greek mythology x)


	8. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life of Castia Goodwitch, now seventeen... And well, still and hormonal teenager.

At the beginning of March, Castia celebrated her seventeenth birthday.

Well, everyone thought it was her eighteen birthday (except Peter) but she didn’t correct them. Firstly, because she didn’t want them to start thinking she was a baby or a child prodigy, and secondly because her friends bought her drinks. Fuck yeah, she was now of legal drinking age! Also it was her first birthday out of the Vale, and so the first birthday with total freedom over her actions. Before… Well, her birthdays had been pretty tame. There had been her dad, Glynda, sometime some classmates, a cake, and that was it. She hadn’t been a very rebellious child. But now? Now she wanted to do something she had never done, stuff that real teenagers did (yes, even if she spiritually was an old and boring grandma that liked knitting)! She wanted to go to a party, drink, dance, eat spicy fast food, be awfully sick in the morning, and tick off the box “irresponsible party in the middle of a school week” from her to-do list.

But she didn’t want to organize the party, so Erin and Robyn had teamed up and bought her to a small club. It wasn’t far from the Academy, so apparently Huntsmen students were well known here, but Castia wasn’t one hundred percent sure that bar was legal. It was in a basement, for one, and not very clean. Well, at least nobody asked for her I. D. Maybe it was because she looked legal. She was seventeen, but she had always been tall for her age, with wide shoulders and confidence in her steps. She could easily pass for eighteen, or even nineteen if she pushed.

Castia had never been to a club and she completely expected to hate it. Yes, she wanted to do it, but still, she was pretty sure that once would be enough for a lifetime and that she would get out of there exhausted and cured of her weird urge of doing teenager’s stuff. After all, clubs were supposed to be overwhelming, right? The deafening noise, the crowded dance floor, the cheap alcohol, the cacophony of pounding basses and yelled conversation and drunken laughter, the smell of alcohol and sweat… Not the stuff of dreams. Besides, in her old life, she had been fairly introverted. But well, what do you know? In her old life she had also been queer as hell, and now she was straight, so maybe reincarnation had put her brain back on the basic factory settings. In any case, Castia went grumbling to the club, but once there, well, she decided to go wild on the dance floor and in ten minutes she had decided she loved the place. The lights, the music, the wild energy of the crowd, the way people yelled and laughed and clapped when she put a spin or a back-flip in her dance, it was amazing!

After dancing like crazy for almost two hours, switching partners almost constantly (Erin-Clover-Erin-Lily-Robyn-Laura-Erin-Fiona-Peter-Erin-Clover), Castia collapsed at the table the rest of her friend had started to fill. She tried to stick to non-alcoholic beverage for most of the night… But it was a lost cause. She was careful of not accepting drinks from strangers, but her friends plied her with tequila sunrise and blueberry mojito, and, well… She couldn’t let them drink alone, could she? Besides, it was funny! Peter and Laura were in the middle of an arm wrestling match whose prize was a bowl of appetizers. Erin was chatting a mile a minute, gesturing wildly while Fiona had collapsed in laughter at her story. Robyn was trying to talk over them without being heard, no that she appeared to have noticed. Clover, usually so straight-laced and serene, had followed them to keep an eye on Erin and had started to loosen up after three drinks. Lily was teasing him about their next mission, both of them arguing with the unwavering confidence and the slightly slurred voices of people who were a few cups in. Castia wasn’t more sober: she had started giggling at the dumbest things, and she felt pleasantly buzzed. Colors were bright, sounds were blurry, her hands were a bit clumsy, and life was simple and amazing.

“And then, and then!” yelled Erin, completely engulfed in her storytelling. “That bastard tells me that money can’t buy happiness!”

“That son of a bitch!” Fiona exclaimed, slamming her fist on the table with outrage.

“I KNOW, RIGHT?! Besides, who asked him?!”

“You did Erin”, pointed Robyn. “You asking him is the whole point of the story.”

“Oh, right. Well, what does that fucker know about that, uh?! UH?! I mean, yeah money can’t buy happiness but it’s still more comfortable to cry on a private jet than on a bicycle!”

“Amen!” nodded Fiona, raising her glass.

At the next table over, Peter slammed down Laura’s hand, winning their match, and she let out a furious stream of expletives, before loudly asking for a rematch. Peter smirked, making a show of hesitating. Neither of them were paying attention, so Castia discreetly stole their bowl of appetizers and began munching on pretzels.

“Anyway, the moral of this story is: forgive you enemy, but remember the bastard’s name’!” proudly announced Erin.

“What you talking about?” asked Clover, leaning towards them to escape Lily who was laughing at him.

“Dad,” promptly answered Erin. “What about you, watcha doing?”

“HE IS DRINKING!” yelled Lily (completely smashed at that point).

Clover pointed an accusatory finger toward her:

“I’m drowning my problems!”

“Alcohol doesn't solve any problem!”

“True,” Clover acknowledged with dignity, “but then neither does milk!”

And he downed his glass. It was some kind of fruity cocktail with an umbrella in it but it was probably alcoholic enough to be used as disinfectant, and he made a disgusted face afterwards. Robyn sniggered and clapped him on the back so vigorously he almost face-planted in the table: Erin and Castia burst out laughing.

“You’re such a bully,” Clover accused his team-leader, rubbing his back.

“I’m not,” Robyn replied petulantly. “I’m amaaazing. Right, girls?”

“YEAH!” yelled Fiona who hadn’t listened to a word.

“We’re the dream team,” Castia beamed. “Let’s take over the world!”

“YEAH!” yelled Erin who had listened a bit too attentively. “TEAM ECLIPSE FOR THE WIN!”

From the next table came an indignant yelp:

“Wait a minute, where are our pretzels?!”

Castia hastily shoved the bowl behind Fiona, then she looked at Erin and they both started laughing like idiots. It was hilarious. Everything was hilarious, and fun, and happy. Castia was tired after dancing, and her legs were heavy, but her mind was still awake and giddy with excitement. She felt warm, surrounded, loved, excited, amazed. All of them were laughing, surrounded by people they loved and trusted, and even if Castia knew that part of their relaxation came from alcohol and the fact that they were all lightweight, well, it didn’t make their shared time less fun and genuine.

Time was stretching at a slower pace than usual. They laughed, they shared jokes and puns. Some of them shared stories that they wouldn’t have told without lowered inhibitions, like Laura casually mentioning that the last time she had been to a bar it was to escape a police chase ( _what_?!) or Robyn revealing with a blush that she found professor Zelena so attractive she couldn’t concentrate in class. Fiona, made emotional by one too many mojitos, told them with tears in her voice that she was worried about her grades and all of them swore to help her study. Lily left for the bathroom and came back almost twenty minutes later, cheerfully informing them that there was a way to go to the roof to breathe some fresh air and that Joanna Greenleaf was there and had offered her a chewing-gum.

It was well past midnight and Castia was starting to be really tired, but she didn’t want the night to end. She felt sluggish, her head light but her limbs heavy. She started to push the others so they could go back to the dance floor, but realized that she was a bit wobbly on her feet. Laughing, Lily directed her to the bathroom so she could splash some water on her face, or go breathe some fresh air, and Castia decided to do just that. Her balance wasn’t at its best, but ten years of training as a Huntress allowed her to enter the bathroom without colliding with anyone or falling on her ass like an idiot. Letting the door close behind her cut most of the music, and Castia sighed with relief: the heavy bass had become a background noise, so until then she hadn’t realized how deafening it was. Her skull was pounding. Splashing water on her face didn’t help, so she decided to follow Lily’s advice and take a breather. From the bathroom, there as a door leading to stairs. Two levels up (at ground level) there was even an elevator. Castia decided that she could totally have taken the stairs all the way, but she was taking the elevator just because she felt like it.

The roof was deserted. Castia came in just as three people, laughing, were leaving. She stepped aside when exiting the elevator to let them pass, and the door closed behind them with a squeak. Then, silence. There was bunch of detritus lying around, like empty bottles or crumbled wrappings. Castia made a face, then went to lean on the railing and admire the view. The pounding in her head abated a little.

She sighed with relief, then turned and found herself face to face with Lionel Greenleaf.

He wasn’t wearing his school uniform, but his Huntsmen outfit, which emphasized his wide shoulders. Cheeks flushed, probably a bit tipsy himself, he looked amazing. He recognized her, and his eyebrows rose while a surprised smile brightened his face.

“Hello there, Wrecking Ball.”

Castia really would have liked to have a cool nickname to fire back, but all she had was a lot of alcohol in her bloodstream and teenage hormones, so she grinned:

“Hello, hot stuff.”

Lionel blinked, taken aback, then laughed. He laughed with his whole body, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. He had a nice laugh, and Castia smiled with affection. Ugh, alcohol was making her sappy.

“That’s bold,” Lionel finally said, eyes shining with amusement. “Found some liquid courage, uh?”

“My brain filter is drowned somewhere in a tequila sunrise,” claimed Castia, still leaning heavily on the railing. “This is the new me now, bursting with self-condenf… confidence.”

Lionel laughed again, and took a few steps closer to stand next to her, leaning against the railing too:

“Well. That’s good. So you think I’m hot?”

He was probably intending on flustering her, but Castia felt unflusterable. If that was a thing. She snorted, then mentally berated herself because that was very unattractive, and said, gesturing to him:

“Well, duh. I have eyes. You’re unfairly attractive. Like to the point of literal unfairness.”

She wanted to make a pun but apparently alcohol made her frank, not clever. Lionel looked a bit surprised, but pleasantly so, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement.

“Well thank you,” he replied bashfully with a pleased smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Castia beamed, absurdly pleased:

“Really? Come on, what do you like about me?”

Lionel looked a bit cornered for a second, probably not having expected that. Then he shrugged, getting back to his smooth self, and looked her up and down. Alright, alcohol was an amazing confidence booster but Castia still felt her cheeks flush at being checked out by her crush so blatantly.

“Well…”, he drawled, golden eyes dancing with amusement. “I like your hair. Your eyes. The way you blush so easily. And apparently, your bluntness when intoxicated.” Castia giggled, and he smiled broadly, leaning toward her before continuing: “What about you? What do you like about me, who is, ah, _unfairly attractive_?”

Some part of Castia’s brain (the sober one) warned her that this turn of phrase was going to bite her in the ass, to which another part of her brain replied saucily that she wouldn’t mind, and to which her sober part flatly replied that she was starting to become a pervert. Then keeping track of her internal dialogue became too complicated, so Castia focused on Lionel. She shrugged, affecting casualness.

“Well… I like your eyes, and your smile, and you know, the whole package. And you’re funny. And you’re a good fighter, very… ferocious.”

“Kinky,” smirked Lionel.

Castia leaned toward him with a grin. Their faces were mere inches from each other. Her heart was beating wildly: she felt like dizzy and exhilarated, like someone running toward the edge of a cliff to gain momentum before jumping.

“Oh? What are you going to do about it?”

Lionel smile dimmed a little, but his gaze fell on Castia’s lips. She felt as if her heart was going to burst out of her chest, she was lightheaded, her palms were sweaty, she was running toward the edge of the cliff and she was going to jump, _oh my gods she was going to jump_ …

“Just so you know,” he begun, briefly licking his lips (and Castia had no control over the way her heart jumped at that), “and I _really hope_ it doesn’t ruin the moment, but I don’t do long-term dating.”

Her brain had trouble focusing. A bit breathless, she let out a shaky laugh:

“Well I’m not asking for you to marry me, jeez. I’m just enjoying my birthday party. Aren’t you?”

Lionel exhaled, then smiled.

“I am,” he said softly.

Then, before Castia could say something else or just calm her crazily beating heart or the butterflies in her stomach, he carefully cupped her face and leaned forward: Castia’ eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed her.

She had forgotten what kissing was like.

It started soft, cautious, but then she gripped his shirt, his hand moved to the back of her head and the small of her back, their mouths opened. They became eager, then frenzied. Suddenly it was like they couldn’t get enough, both of them exploring avidly what they could reach, lips barely parting for a second to draw breath before searching for the others. Castia’s blood was pounding in her ears, her word reduced to the incredible sensation of Lionel’s mouth on hers, his lips, his tongue; Lionel’s hands trailing on her hair, her back, her hips, leaving goose bumps in their wake; and under her own exploring hands, his strong back, his ribs, his shoulders flexing with each move. He was so _warm_ , so _strong_. Anticipation had been exhilarating, but jumping the gun was breathtaking. Literally: they barely parted for air before diving right back in, not even opening their eyes, blindly seeking the others kisses.

Time didn’t exist anymore. It was heat, passion, exhilaration. Castia’s brain had shut down and it was amazing. She wasn’t thinking anymore, she was just living, kissing, devouring, exploring. She felt like a live wire, her whole body thrumming with sensations, each caress setting her nerves alight. Her back was pressed against the railing, she was half-straddling Lionel’s thigh, she didn’t remember how they had gotten there; Lionel’s hand sneaked under the back of her shirt, brushing her ribs, and she shuddered…

There was a cold gust of wind that blew her hair right in their faces and made her violently jolt for a whole different reason, and they broke up, coughing up hair.

“Ugh, not sexy,” muttered Castia who still didn’t have any filter.

Lionel laughed, a bit breathless. His pupils were huge, eating most of the gold of his iris; his hair was a mess; his cheeks were flushed red; Castia wondered wildly what would happen if they kept kissing and touching, and she really wanted to… But he took a step back, letting her get down (she had been half climbing him up, using the railing as a support), and they both took a moment to breath. Like her, he had his shirt untucked and rumpled up.

Castia’s brain, apparently back online, helpfully informed her that she had previously told herself that she would look, but not touch, and that she had royally fucked up that last part. But she was still lightheaded and giddy, not knowing if it was because of the drinks or because of the kiss (probably the later), so she ignored it.

Lionel cleared his throat, vaguely combing his hair back and smoothing his shirt to look presentable. Belatedly, Castia realized that she should do the same, and did, although she quickly gave up on the hair. Mid-length hair like Lionel’s was easy to tame, but her long blonde mane was reaching to her mid-back and had undergo two hours of energetic dancing, two more hours of partying, wind on the roof, and a make-out session of indefinite length. It was a lost cause.

“So,” she finally said, a bit awkward but aware that someone was supposed to break the silence before it really became uncomfortable.

No that they weren’t engulfed in a heated kiss, Lionel was looking a bit more hesitant. He was probably realizing that it wasn’t that great of a decision. Castia felt unreasonably saddened by that. Sure, it was the alcohol talking, but still… rejection hurt. The plunge from the high of the kiss to the crash back to reality was a hard one. She valiantly tried to smile:

“I’m guessing that your stance on long-term dating hasn’t changed.”

Lionel nodded, a bit relieved, then sighed:

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s not against you. That was… a spur-of-the-moment decision. Still, it’s not going to go any further. Sorry.”

Castia nodded. Her heart was still pumping like crazy from the kiss, but also breaking a little. She should have tried to lighten the atmosphere, to banter, or just to make him promise that they would stay friend, but her brain was empty.

“Okay,” she said weakly. “Well, I should go home anyway. See you at the Academy.”

“Alright,” Lionel tentatively smiled. “No hard feelings, Wrecking Ball?”

The nickname was suddenly bittersweet. His affection wasn’t feigned, but… It wasn’t enough. And Castia wanted to beat herself up for wanting more. She managed to shake her head, affecting casualness (and probably failing). She tried to remind herself that by in six months, she probably would have moved on. But as she turned away to flee, she realized that thought didn’t help at all. It was just depressing.

**oOoOoOo**

Castia was fairly new to heartbreak. Well, _heartbreak_ was maybe a bit strong. She hadn’t wanted a declaration of undying love from Lionel. She had wanted to kiss him, and she had. She just… Well, she had also wanted to spent time with him, and made him notice her, and make him laugh, and he had said _no_. He was charming and attractive and when she had made her move, he had rejected her. It hurt, alright?! Besides, after making her absurdly confident, alcohol also made her edgy. She had laughed easily with her friends, well, she also cried easily when getting back from the roof. The worst was that she felt really stupid about it. She knew that it wasn’t something that could lead to anything meaningful. She had wanted Lionel like a kid wants a pony at Christmas: with terrible, burning intensity, but without the slightest idea of what to do with it once the impossible had happened. Well, the impossible had happened, reality hadn’t magically changed, and now the pony was going back to Santa.

So. Castia was sad, upset, and she sniffled all the way down the stairs to the secret club in the basement. It was a long walk, and all those emotions had exhausted her. She couldn’t even say why she was crying. He hadn’t been mean about it. In retrospect, that was lucky. Lionel was kind of sarcastic, and well, some snide remarks could be really hurtful if said at the wrong moment. It was a good thing that Castia had done most of the talking and then fled. He must have been… well, maybe not freaked out, but dumbfounded. He was used to being in control, and making out with a girl four years his junior was quite the slip. Oh, shit, he probably thought she was eighteen. He was going to freak out when he learned she was a year younger. Well, _if_ he found out. It hadn’t come up in conversation until now, there was no reason for it to change.

So. She splashed her face with water, and went back to her friends. It was time to go home. Fiona couldn’t walk without heavily leaning on Lily, and both Erin and Clover were half-asleep already. Only Robyn noted that Castia had puffy eyes, and she managed to pass it off as the alcohol making her emotional. Which wasn’t exactly false, even.

Sneaking back into the Academy while exhausted and intoxicated was a real adventure. Castia was pretty sure they had been spotted, but she was too tired to care. The only thing that mattered was to collapse on her bed. She had the foresight to drink a whole glass of water and to put another on her bedside table for the inevitable hangover, but then she was out like a light.

The morning was horrible. Her eyes were crusty, her mouth was dry, and she had a pounding headache. And she had to go to class anyway. Thanks the gods it was Wednesday, they would be sitting at their desk all day. Going to train with a hangover would have been a nightmare.

Anyway. She felt a bit better, mentally, but she was still sad. Besides, now that she was sober, all of her awkwardness had returned. What seemed simple yesterday was a whole new mess. What if Lionel avoided her? What if he was pissed at her? What if he wanted to ignore what had happened and continued flirting? How was she going to deal with her messy feelings? She already had a hard time figuring out what was going on. Should she say something to her friends? Or keep it a secret?

Well, that last question was actually answered pretty quickly. They were all finishing getting ready when Erin, cheerfully said:

“So, how was that birthday, Castia?”

She thought about it. Well, it had been pretty cool, right until the end. But the end had been after midnight, so technically it hadn’t been her birthday anymore…

“Fantastic, actually.”

“Really?” she grinned. “Tell me more!”

“What do you want me to tell you?” Castia asked, puzzled. “You were there. You couldn’t have been that drunk.”

“Not that part,” she snorted. No, I want to talk about the making out happening last night!”

Castia froze… But so did Laura and Peter. Then they all realized they had frozen at the same time and exchanged wide-eyed looks. Erin’s eyebrow rose until almost disappearing behind her pink bangs.

“Well I was talking about Castia, but _this_ is an interesting development…”

“Castia?” repeated Laura, looking like she was grasping at straws. “What about Castia, what happened?”

The young Goodwitch groaned. She didn’t feel like crying anymore, she even felt silly for crying in the first place, but that didn’t mean she was over it. She was sad, goddamnit. She collapsed on her bed, and said mournfully:

“I talked with Lionel on the roof, we made out, then he broke up with me.”

There was a short silence. Erin was wincing, realizing she had walked straight into a sensitive subject. Peter blinked:

“Well, he can’t have broken up with you, you weren’t even dating.”

Laura threw him an incredulous look and smacked him with a pillow:

“Peter! Seriously. Mouth, insert foot.”

“Are you alright?” Erin asked seriously, showing surprising tact.

Castia pondered it for a few seconds. She was… Well, she was sad. She felt stupid, and awkward, and she still had feelings for Lionel even thought he had told her no. But she didn’t want to cry anymore. She wasn’t over it, sure, but she was better than she had been in the immediate aftermath. Sure, things were going to be awkward for while, and she probably was going to do a lot of pining and staring longingly at him, but… The worst was over. And the best, too (thinking about that kiss almost brought a dopey grin to her face). It had been nice, but she was going to have to move forwards. It wouldn’t be quick, and maybe it wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn’t heartbreaking anymore.

“I think I’m okay,” she said slowly. “It’s not like we were dating, like Peter said. It’s just a crush.”

Laura let herself fall next to her on the mattress, eyes shining with curiosity:

“So what happened? No offense, but it didn’t look like he was ever going to make a move. He’s all talk and no action.”

“Well there was at least _some_ action,” sniggered Erin.

Castia kicked her in the shin, but she was blushing to the roots of her hair. That had been a nice kiss. Not some kind of fairy tale brush of lips, but a real one, with passion and impatience and all the frustration of hormonal teenagers (well, teenager in Castia’s case, but still very young adult in Lionel’s case). Honestly, with all their fumbling, their groping hands, and the way Castia had ended up almost on top of him, she was pretty sure they had _barely_ managed to keep it PG-rated.

“I have no idea how long we stayed on that roof,” she confessed, grinning a little. “Things got a little heated up.”

“I did not need to know that,” muttered Peter.

That was a mistake. Erin, who was all but giggling as if sharing Castia’s jubilation with that damn kiss, rounded up on him with a predatory grin.

“So! What did _you_ get up to, Peter Marengo?”

Peter and Laura looked at each other. Then Laura cleared her throat, and said in a slightly high-pitched voice that betrayed her nervousness:

“We’re dating.”

“YES!” yelled Erin, punching the air. “I knew it! So, how did that happen?”

Actually Castia could have answered that for them. Laura and Peter were joined at the hip since day one. They loved being the center of the other’s attention. They loved to banter, to argue, to share secrets and work together on projects. If love at first sight was a thing, well, it had happened to them.

“Wait a minute,” Erin said after the recounting of Laura and Peter budding romance. “Castia managed to get Lionel…”

“Briefly”, groaned Castia.

“Well, briefly but still. And Laura and Peter are together, so… Am I the only one who is not getting some?!”

The three others shared a look. Castia had to fight a grin. That girl was a pervert. Then Peter turned towards Erin and placidly said:

“Yes.”

“Fuck!” swore Erin, gripping her own hair in frustration. “You guys suck!”

“You _wish_ ,” Laura retorted with a roguish grin.

Erin let out a wordless scream of frustration, then turned back on her heels to stomp to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Castia burst out laughing. She felt better already. And judging by the small smile that Laura and Peter exchanged, that had been the goal.

It was good to have friends.

The day passed. Their hangover did too. At least Team RFLE was suffering as much as them, if that was any comfort. Fiona was a bit green and Clover looked like a zombie. The both of them were lightweights anyway. Erin teased them at lunch, but even herself, the bubbliest of the lot, wasn’t fresh as a daisy. Castia knew that the teachers had noticed, mostly because there was no way professor Bole was usually _this loud_. It was terrible. Well, at least they hadn’t been given detention, so maybe nobody had saw them sneaking back in the Academy. That was a comfort… Even if nothing could make up for that damn headache. She almost tried to text James or Amber to complain… Then she slipped her Scroll back in her pocket. No, she didn’t want to talk about it with them. Amber would approve of the drinking and the partying, but Castia also wanted to spill her guts about Lionel and she wanted someone who would listen. And James… Well, frankly, James would maybe approve of the partying but _completely disapprove_ of the drinking, and he would also disapprove of Lionel because they both had been intoxicated and she was still a _minor_. What a pain.

So, the day passed, then normal life resumed its course. Castia didn’t see Lionel. He wasn’t avoiding her, not truly. When they passed each other in the halls, he said hello. But he was a bit stiff, a bit awkward. He certainly didn’t offer any more sparring sessions. Well, maybe Castia was to blame too: she didn’t approach him to offer one either. They both needed to get their footing back. Castia could have done without the teenage drama, true. But it was part of the experience, right? She couldn’t get back on her feet if she just pretended nothing existed and that she was immediately fine after being getting dumped. Or, as Peter put it, not-dumped because they had been not-dating.

It would have been easier if Lionel had not been so unfairly attractive, she thought sometimes. Because yeah, he had told her off, but he was still gorgeous and, much to her chagrin, she was still noticing him. Well, at least now she was keeping her distance. Stepping back was kind of easier when someone pushed you away.

So Castia went through the inevitable experience of break-up, complete with ice-cream, sappy movies watched with friends, and lamenting about her misfortune. Then, as did all teenagers with crushes, she bounced back.

It didn’t happen right away. A week passed, then another, then another. She trained, she listened in class, she did her homework and complained about it. She got back to her poetry notebook. She had a bunch of love poems and quotes she wanted to write. Oh, she was well aware that she hadn’t lived the drama of the century. She still couldn’t really imagine what true love was like. Wanting to spend your whole life with someone, raise a family with them, wanting to marry them. It was too big. But… She knew how attraction, affection, friendship, familiarity and trust could mix up and blow up like volatile chemicals. Falling in and out of love was like jumping off a cliff and suddenly being able to fly. One day, you have to land somewhere. But just for the time it lasted, whether it was years or just the time of a kiss, well… It was a rush, wasn’t it?

After all, love was just brain chemistry. It was her own neural network making itself high on happiness, so to speak.

But there were others things that made her happy. Like spending time with her friends, training, winning, writing, reading, following her dream of making the world a kinder and safer place. So she did just that. She still wanted to be recruited by the Ozluminati and for that, she had to prove herself And if it was taking too long, well… She could swing by Beacon, and corner Ozpin for answers. That would be fun. But for now, she didn’t feel as if it was taking too long. For years she had wanted to be a Huntress to dive head first into the Big Game, but now that she was _actually_ becoming a Huntress, she was also busy with living her own life. Making risky choices, spending time with friends, doing things that made her happy.

She still had her eyes on the prize, thought. It had been in her mind for so long that she never completely forgot about it. Salem existed. The Grimm existed. The world wasn’t safe and she needed to do something about it. It wasn’t an obsession, no, but… More like a compass, always pointing in the right direction when she felt lost or discouraged. It helped a lot. It gave her drive and determination. How did people without a dream manage to just go on, directionless? Oh, well, she could imagine it well enough. It had been like that for her in her previous life, after all. When you don’t know what you’re living for, you don’t care how you live from one day to the next. You’re happy the day has passed and the night has come, and in your sleep you bury the tedious question of what you lived for that day and what you’re going to live for tomorrow. But you lived, one day after another, and somehow that was enough.

It wasn’t enough for Castia. She wanted to live, live, _live_. She wanted to fill her existence with adventure and purpose, with failures and triumphs. She wanted her notebook to be full of tales of her daring exploits. In the aftermath of her birthday, she filled pages and pages with quotes and verses and rhymes.

“Can I read?” Peter asked once, hesitantly.

She hadn’t shown the notebook to Erin or Laura yet. Maybe she would, one day. She still passed it to him, and she saw him mouth silently her latest bit of rambling.

_I have this urge to be reckless_

_I am frightened of becoming old_

_and having no memories at all_

_I know that climbing forbidden fences is wrong,_

_but I still keep falling in love with the wrong people,_

_I keep falling out of metaphorical tree,_

_I’m dying to do something_

_worth remembering._

_There’s no logic, really_

_It’s just that if I bleed now,_

_I have a lifetime to heal_

She was sure she had read it somewhere in her old life. She wasn’t sure she was actually capable of original poetry at all. Bah, it didn’t matter. It fitted her feelings perfectly, anyway. Peter passed her notebook back, looking thoughtful.

“I know you’re the youngest, but sometime you’re weirdly wise, Castia.”

She shrugged:

“I skipped straight from annoying kid to wise grandma in term of mental age.”

Peter fought a grin. Castia had stopped knitting, because she lacked time, but her roommates knew she could make woolen scarves and gloves, and they would never let her live it down.

“You’re an old soul.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Anyway. March passed, slowly. She hung out with her friends, who didn’t pry about Lionel (Erin must have told something to Team RFLE, because even Lily didn’t brush the topic). She texted Amber about silly and inconsequential stuff. She called James to speak about his day and to listen to him bitch about his coworkers or ramble excitedly about a new military project that would make the city safer. She trained with him, too. The first time, she felt irrationally jumpy, almost guilty, as if she had committed some fault by jumping Lionel (or rather, not telling him about it). It was true that it was the first ‘big’ secret she was hiding from James, but hey, she was a grown-up girl now, she was entitled to her privacy. Besides, feeling guilty was completely irrational. James had never demanded complete transparency from her. That idea had probably never even crossed his mind. He was her friend, not her keeper. He trusted her, and he trusted that she trusted him in return. He wasn’t there to supervise her. She was probably feeling weird because she was used on relying on him to bounce ideas back and forth so she could fix her problems (the flaws in her fighting style, her relationship with her teammates, even her homework!), but now, well. She was on her own.

Obviously, it was in the beginning of April, when she was mostly over her it and that everything was good in her life again, that Lionel approached her.

**oOoOoOo**

In April, there was another possibility for students to take missions and this time, James Ironwood would be one of the Huntsmen taking them outside the city. Castia was eagerly waiting for it. Going on a mission with James was bound to be more interesting than going on a mission with Specialist Orville. This time around, Team ECLP had picked a search and destroy mission, which better suited Castia’s need for a good fight.

Castia was also very aware that her friends knew that she had a friend called _James_ , that she texted, called, and sometimes trained with; but they didn’t know that her friend was actually _Commander Ironwood_ , the military liaison who sometimes passed through the halls to talk to the headmistress and who had given them a class about the military at the beginning of the year. To the eyes of the Academy’s students, including her friends’, James Ironwood was distant figure that they knew in passing, but he was definitely part of the Academy’s staff…. which made him a stuck-up authority figure, by default. And Castia couldn’t blame them for not reconciling their image of Commander Ironwood with her friend James! All they knew of him was that he was a Huntsmen, badass in a fight, fussy about packing the right equipment for a trip, and, in Castia’s own words, that ‘ _he bitched a lot about his job’_. None of it made him exactly recognizable.

“Maybe I should warn them,” she mused during one of their training. “I mean, it would be fun to have the whole mission with them completely unaware that they’re missing something, but I’m not sure I can pull it off.”

They were practicing hand-to-hand combat. Well, augmented hand-to-hand combat. Castia was working on using her Semblance to enhance her strength. She could do that, but mostly to throw destructive punches or jump twenty meters high. The goal here was just to match Ironwood’s natural strength. She could go hard and make stuff explode, but mostly the point of the exercise was to combine the subtler points of her techniques with her destructive force. She could balance the both of them when she was wreaking havoc on Beowolfes and the like, but it was harder to do so on a small scale. Her natural instinct was always to ditch the finer karate moves to blast things with Telekinesis. But James was apparently a ninja and could sneak under her guard almost as fast as she made the ground explode, so… here they were, training.

“Well, you have to tell them,” James conceded. “It would be rude not to. But consider that,” and he grinned, “you can only tell them _once_.”

James Ironwood was a bit of a stuck-up, it was true. He loved rules and organization and hierarchy. But he was still pretty young (what, twenty-five?) and sometime, a bit of mischief shone through his façade. Castia grinned from ear to ear.

“You’re right. I’ll wait.”

Anyway. Castia had plenty to occupy herself. The last time, it was Erin who had picked the mission and organized training. But since Castia had vetoed her choice this time and picked the mission herself, Erin thought it would be fitting if she got to act like their team leader just this once. So Castia was in charge of training until the day of the mission.

It was fine with her. She liked training. And to her surprise, she found that she liked organizing things too. She didn’t like to shoulder all the responsibility, it was always intimidating, but she liked to make plans and prepare projects. She shuffled their schedules around to make time for Peter’s and Laura’s personal training (and ignored Erin when she sniggered “ _Is that how they call it these days?_ ” and when Laura tripped her in retribution). Peter already had enough time for his internship homework, but Castia did change her own schedule to match his and look over his work at least once a week, because she was still pretty invested into this damn satellite that wasn’t going to launch itself. She did organize their schedule so they could cover for Laura one day, because she was sneaking out to participate in a rally in Mantle.

(It was a rally protesting against Faunus discrimination. More specifically, the fact that humans couldn’t marry Faunus. Castia had been completely baffled to learn that it was literally illegal. Gay marriage had been legal for thirty years now, for humans as well as Faunus, but mixed couple weren’t accepted? What bullshit! Just because a bunch of racist assholes cringed at the thought of mixing with people with cat’s ears. Fucking incredible. Seriously, even if they weren’t wrong, which they _were_ … saying “ _ewww, that’s disgusting_ ” was _not_ a valid ideological position. It was an involuntary emotional reaction, and while people could be entitled to feel that way, it was insulting to pretend it’s anything more than that. Castia was of the opinion that if you thought something was gross, that simply meant that it wasn’t for you. These guys didn’t have to marry Faunus themselves. But stopping consenting adults from marrying because of that? Bullshit! Seriously, if you opposed the existence of something altogether, you better have a more substantial reason than just finding it unappealing. Ugh. Humanity sucked sometimes.)

But back to the point… Castia found herself leader by interim, under Erin’s amused watch, and she enjoyed herself. She worked on strategy. She organized common training with Team RFLE, who accepted good-naturally.

Castia actually really loved to train with them. In a fair fight, Team ECLP couldn’t beat Team RFLE, but when the players were shuffled around, whoever had Castia in their team usually won (although not easily). It was great. Sometime they fought with uneven teams, to see what would happen. Castia still had trouble with teamwork. She could organize it just fine, but she had a hard time integrating herself into it. She was just too much of a wrecking ball. People needed adapt themselves to her. Still, some people managed just fine. The swiftest victory her team won was when she snagged Erin, Clover and Lily for her team. The Ebi cousins were awesome together, and Lily almost turned berserk in a fight.

So life was going pretty great for her. Then, one Saturday, while their whole group was getting back from training, Castia spotted Lionel leaning against a wall, waiting. When his eyes meet hers, he stood up, and casually walked to her:

“Hey, Wrecking Ball.”

“Hey,” she answered dumbly.

She was a bit stunned, taken aback by this sudden change of heart. Annoyed, also, because what right did he have to act like nothing had happened? Anxious, because it was the first time he approached her since The Kiss, and what if he wanted to talk about it? And giddy, because damn, it was still her crush, tall and handsome and charming and _smiling at her_ , and get a _fucking grip_ Castia!

“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued, studiously ignoring her friends who were watching like hawks. “Do you want to go in town? It’s Saturday, we could grab a coffee at the shop nearby.”

“Sure,” she answered on autopilot.

She got several questioning looks, more or less fierce. She had no doubt that Laura would jump for Lionel’s throat if Castia showed the slightest sign of discomfort. And the rest would follow… Although, Erin was vicious, so she would probably go for the knees to bring him down… The thought almost made her smirk, and she turned to her friends:

“It’s alright. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Are you sure?” Erin and Peter asked at the same time, their voice insistent.

Laura didn’t say anything, but the way she was sizing up Lionel for weaknesses made pretty clear which camp she had picked. Team RFLE didn’t say anything, but Robyn’s eyebrows had risen in surprise, and her gaze flickered between Lionel and the young Goodwitch. She probably smelled something fishy. Castia rolled her eyes, and pushed all three of her teammates towards the Academy:

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. See you later!”

And she followed Lionel. From the corner of her eyes, she could see that her friends didn’t look convinced. Twenty-to-one that they would try to follow them… Ugh. At least she hoped they could be discreet.

She ostensibly turned away from them, walking besides Lionel towards the gates. He gallantly offered her his arm, like an old fashioned gentleman, and she tripped him on the sidewalk, nearly making him fall. They shared a grin, and for a moment it was like nothing had changed. Then reality caught up with Castia and she looked away, embarrassed. Come on, get a grip.

They made awkward small talk. How was class, how was the training going, that kind of stuff. They had never shared their interests, so they quickly run out of safe topics to talk about. Besides, their friendly banter had become a bit stilled and uncomfortable. Thankfully, the coffee shop Lionel had mentioned wasn’t very far. It was a popular one amongst students, because it was cheap and original. You could get everything from an espresso as dark as Salem’s soul to a vanilla latte with exotics fruity flavors. Castia didn’t like coffee much, but it was alright, as long as there was milk and sugar in it. She wasn’t like Erin who drank her coffee black and biter (as if she needed the extra shot of caffeine!); or Peter, who drank revolting mix of coffee, syrup, and whipped cream; or even Laura who wouldn’t be caught dead drinking what she called ‘ _that disgusting socks’ juice who tasted like responsibilities and despair_ ’. Actually, once again, Castia was the normal one in their lot.

Anyway. They got to the coffee shop, ordered, took a seat, and there was a short silence. Castia laughed nervously:

“Well. Alone at least, uh?”

Lionel squinted:

“Is that your team a few tables over, all wearing fake mustaches?”

“Gods damn it,” groaned Castia, dropping her head on the table. “Alright, ignore them. Let’s go straight to the point so I can kick their asses later.”

He snorted with amusement, then frowned:

“So. About that thing on the roof. I wanted to apologize.”

That was so out of character that Castia blinked, incredulous, and almost checked behind her shoulder for a hidden camera. But Lionel continued with the same breath:

“As the older and more experimented student, but also as an honorable Huntsman, I am supposed to be the responsible one and I should have put a stop to it immediately, as it is only befitting of…”

“Oh my gods,” interrupted Castia, incredulous. “Did someone write that speech for you?”

He made a face:

“Is that obvious?”

“Completely. You don’t sound so humble or so smart usually.”

Lionel cracked a smile:

“Alright, I deserved that. It’s May who coached me, actually. She is big on responsibility and all that stuff. We were talking about something else the other day, she asked about you, I told her… Anyway. We had a screaming row and you know, she had a point about me being a bit irresponsible on that one. She always tells me I’m too reckless…”

There was a lot of affection in his voice when he talked about May Marigold. Castia swallowed. He had said he didn’t date, not that there was someone else, but… She pushed the thought out of her mind (not the good time, brain!) and said instead:

“Well, part of the screw up is my fault. I had no idea I was that forward when tipsy. I literally jumped you.”

“Alright, so we both screwed up,” he laughed. “So, I wanted to say: sorry. I shouldn’t have hit on you since the beginning, actually. It’s my default mode, and it was pretty funny. But it can lead to big misunderstandings.”

“Oh,” said Castia with a small voice. “So you didn’t really mean it?”

Lionel looked embarrassed, fidgeting with his cup of coffee:

“Well, I didn’t… not mean it? It’s just that… I didn’t think that would work. I usually see when people start falling for my charm, and slam on the brakes.”

“Yeah,” Castia laughed nervously, uncomfortable. “I guess I’m too easily charmed by you being, what was it again? unfairly attractive?”

Lionel preened, brushing his hair back in a casual yet studied gesture. As usual, compliments redirected his attention. Castia inwardly sighed in relief.

“Well, for your defense, I’m very handsome,” he smiled. “Still, you should remember that it’s the inside that matter, not the outside.”

“Really?” Castia raised an eyebrow. “Give me one example.”

“Refrigerator.”

“… Alright, you got me.”

They grinned at each other. Now that the awkward part of the conversation was over, Castia felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. Still, she didn’t want to linger on the topic of how their friendship had almost imploded because she was too clingy when drunk, so she racked her brain for an idea and finally asked:

“So, what did lead to this conversation, actually? What were you and May talking about? Responsibility?”

He waved a hand, a bit dismissive:

“Recklessness in general. I’m the best in my promotion, as you know, but May think I’m taking too many risks. Which, alright, _may_ be true… But no risks, no rewards, and how am I supposed to be noticed by the big shots if I don’t make myself known?”

Castia had known that Lionel wanted to be a Specialist and climb up the ranks, but they hadn’t talked much about it. But she could see how it connected to his cavalier attitude. Lionel was used to success, after all. He liked the thrill of the fight but he liked praise and admiration better. She put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, curious:

“And May is against it?”

Lionel made a face, leaning back against his seat:

“May and Joanna both. You’re friend with Lily, Robyn and Fiona, aren’t you? We all come from Mantle. We were childhood friends. When we were kids, we wanted to devote ourselves to protect the city. But well, I grew up; I got my own dreams. Lily, too: she wants to leave the country, did you know? But the others girls stuck with their childhood ambitions. The thing is… Joanna and I can’t really imagine going our separate ways, but Joanna is going to follow May, and that May and Fiona want to stick with Robyn. So if I go in the military, they are going to follow… but they don’t want to, because it’s Atlas’s military and all they care about is Mantle.”

“Robyn and Fiona never mentioned that,” she said, surprised.

“Oh,” he snorted, “that’s because their last teammate, that Clover guy, is a pushover who is okay with them walking away to do their own stuff. I would be fine to do my own stuff too, actually. It would blow to have to leave Joanna, but I want to join the military and climb it up more than I want to hang around my childhood neighborhood. Still, my teammates think it’s not worth it, because I take too many risks to be noticed by the brass…”

“… So they want to convince you to give up and stick to Mantle,” completed Castia, guessing where it was going.

“Bingo,” he said darkly.

Put it like that… It made sense. Lionel was reckless. And his friends did love Mantle: in canon, they had devoted their lives to the city, even going against the law to do the right things by Mantle’s citizens. Still, that story, and the part about trying to make the ambitious one give up his dreams because it was too dangerous in the eyes of his sister… Castia winced. Yeah, that hit a little close to home.

Oh, she wasn’t blinded by her own feelings (even if she felt compelled to side with Lionel, and not just because she had a crush on him). She could see where both sides were coming from. It also explained why Joanna and May, when she had been introduced to them, claimed _maybe_ wanting to join the military. They wanted to serve Mantle, and the military was supposed to protect both Atlas and Mantle, right? But they had gone on more and more missions where they saw how Atlas was privileged… Lionel was turning away from Mantle to pursue a career in Atlas’s military… Of course they felt betrayed. So they decided to stick to their original plan and fight for Mantle. But now, Lionel’s ambitions had created a rift between them…

“Well,” she said softly. “I’m always in favor of pursuing your own dreams. Maybe it’ll blow up in your face, but maybe you’ll get you happy ending.”

“Thanks,” Lionel smiled. “But I have a feeling the girls and I are going to argue about it for a long time. Life isn’t a fairy tale.”

Castia shrugged, remembering a quote from her poetry notebook:

“Well, fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.”

Lionel’s eyebrows rose, and he looked appreciative:

“Nice one. I’ll probably use it one day.”

“Glad to be of service”, she answered drily. “So, to talk about something happier… Want to train, one of those days? I win against everyone. It’s boring.”

“You’re getting arrogant in your old age, Wrecking Ball.”

“Ah! Look who’s talking about arrogance!”

Their old banter was back, and they snipped back and forth, made jokes, and bickered just like before. In her chest, Castia felt her heart swelling of happiness. She felt giddy and bursting with optimist. She wasn’t over Lionel, she knew it now. She had never been. But he knew that, and she knew that, and they had cleared the air anyway. They could still be friends. It didn’t matter if Castia never got to kiss him again (although she would really want to…): it was enough to be able to spend time with him, to jokes with him, to share smiles and stories. They were friends. They could be more, sure, but why wouldn’t she be glad to at least have his friendship? His trust, his smile, his laugh, it felt like sunshine on her skin, and Castia wanted to soak it up like a flower.

The future was unfolding in front of her, full of bright possibilities. And Castia was feeling endlessly optimistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ah, I had fun with this chapter. If you feel awkward on behalf of Castia : good ! It's the point x) She is a teenager dealing with being politely rejected. In the nicest way possible, but still. It's a life experience !

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked that first taste !
> 
> As every character in RWBY is based on a fairy tale character, Castia Goodwitch is based on the Witch in the North in "The Wizard Of Oz". She is related to the Witch in the South, Glinda (the inspiration for Glynda' Goodwitch characters, according to the creators of the show). Castia's name is made up, but's based on Locasta, the name of the Good Witch of the North in the 1900 novel "The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz".
> 
> First chapter will be posted new week !


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